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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26926558">Entwined</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLadyGia/pseuds/TheLadyGia'>TheLadyGia</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Entwined Universe [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, Magical Theory (Harry Potter), Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Wizarding Politics (Harry Potter)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 02:20:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>52,453</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26926558</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLadyGia/pseuds/TheLadyGia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Eight-year-old Harry Potter discovers his soulmate mark and, with the support of his family, navigates what it means to bear the mark of the leader of the Dark faction and possible Dark Lord, Tom Riddle.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Harry Potter/Tom Riddle, James Potter/Lily Evans Potter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Entwined Universe [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2289395</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>141</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1104</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>NW14_Collection, Yukikawa’s HP Bookshelf, Прочитано и жду продолжения</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Many thanks to my delightful beta RudeHellion as well as all the encouragement from the other Tomarrymort shippers. Appreciate you all, and I hope you enjoy!</p><p>Edit note 5/1/21: Sorry for the alert! No new update right now, just making Entwined part of a series.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>The first time he saw his mark it was out of the corner of his eye. Harry had just finished two hours of flying with his Dad and his brother Connor. It was the first time his little brother had joined them in a seeker’s game, and three matching grins graced the faces of the Potter lads as they trooped inside.</p><p> </p><p>As he shucked his clothes off to grab a shower, Harry thought he could still feel the wind whipping past his flushed cheeks. He felt giddy in the aftermath of the game, the chatter and laughter of his family as they wove between each other in search of the practice snitch ringing in his ears. His quidditch robes pooled on the bathroom floor, and he had almost climbed into the tub when a glimpse of dark squiggly lines across the left side of his chest made him step back in front of the mirror.</p><p> </p><p>The shape was an amorphous, dark smudge at first glance. As he squinted, Harry could make out the charcoal colored sweeping curves of five words embossed over a staff with two snakes wound around it from base to tip. ‘<strong><em>The serpent of my soul’</em></strong>. Harry couldn’t pull his eyes away, his fingers coming up to trace the edges of the image without a thought. His mark, it was here. <em>His mark</em>! He met his own gaze in the mirror, emerald eyes flashing brightly back at him as a joyful smile overtook his features.</p><p> </p><p>“MUM! Mum, it’s here!” he yelled.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s here, you have to come see! I’ve got my mark. I’ve got my—“</p><p> </p><p>Harry cut himself off at the stampeding sound of pounding feet on the stairs that followed his hollering.</p><p> </p><p>He giggled at the sound of his mum’s scolding that echoed up to the third floor bathroom. “Bloody hell, James! Don’t bowl me over on the stairs, you’ll get there when you get there. Besides, he called for <em>me</em>. Yes, I <em>know</em> it’s his mark. I’ve got ears, don’t I? Oh, let’s just get up there!” </p><p> </p><p>Harry turned back to the mirror, index finger following the twined snakes looping across his small chest.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I have a soulmate.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>The warmth curling inside him was more comforting than hugs from his father or the soft sound of his mum’s voice lulling him to sleep after a bad dream. There was a weightlessness to it, the comfort of the unseen that wrapped around him, whispering, ‘I’ve got you, Harry.’</p><p> </p><p>He’d thought this feeling was exclusive to flying, but maybe that’s what having a soulmate meant; always having someone on a broom beside you. He had never felt like this before, at least not down on the ground. </p><p> </p><p>His parents burst through the doorway simultaneously, a tangle of knees, elbows and heaving chests. James’ eyes were bright with excitement while Lily was bouncing in place. The Potters could only see their eldest in profile, but his whole body seemed more relaxed than they’d ever seen it before. The soft patter of Connor’s footsteps gave away his lurking curiosity, but Harry was happy to let him share in this moment, too. He loved nothing more than he loved his family, except, now, his soulmate.</p><p> </p><p>Harry had heard stories about his parent's marks since before he could remember.  Uncle Padfoot would tell him and Connor the tale every year on September 1<sup>st</sup>, speaking at length about the day when a flame-haired spitfire had sat down in their compartment on the Hogwarts Express and introduced herself as Lily Evans.</p><p> </p><p>Dad would always interject, cutting off Uncle Pads’ description of the pair of first-years searching for two empty seats and the chance to meet other wixen, to proudly inform his sons that he’d gotten down on one knee almost the moment the word Lily came out of the redhead’s mouth.</p><p> </p><p>“I pulled my right sleeve up to show this auburn-haired angel the flower that had marked my forearm for the past two years, a flaming lily, and told her ‘you were made for me.’” James would add, smirking in remembrance.</p><p> </p><p>Uncle Moony would usually chip in with, “and she despised the way you worded, ‘I think you may be my soulmate,’ to the point of blushing bright pink and spitting, ‘I am made for myself alone,’ before turning on the spot and dragging Severus out of the compartment.”</p><p> </p><p>Harry would giggle without fail each time he heard the story about his mum’s response to his dad’s goofiness. Now that he was staring at his own mark, her oft-expressed opinion on soulmarks came back to him.</p><p> </p><p>“Our marks don’t tell us who we’re supposed to be,” Lily would explain to a six-year old Harry and a three-year old Connor, each tucked into one of her sides.</p><p> </p><p>Harry would burrow into her warmth as her hand stroked softly through his hair. “They guide us to the person who best helps us be who we are,” she finished, kissing both boys’ heads.</p><p> </p><p>“You should never have to change to fit yourself into a space someone else makes for you, especially one that’s too small. Nor should you ask them to shrink for you. Being with your soulmate is a joining, an ease, a steady acceptance of being wanted as you are.”</p><p> </p><p>Lily balanced the boys on her hips and carried them to bed. Harry adored her sweet smile, and her final piece of advice that night had stayed with him in the two years between then and receiving his own mark.</p><p> </p><p>“Your mark represents someone who sees all of you. The scars, the dreams, the faults and the possibilities. They see all of that and love you for it, all of it,” she told him.</p><p> </p><p>Harry had watched her solemnly, his mum wasn’t often that serious. “No one, not even your soulmate, is perfect Harry. They’re a real person doing their best, even when others are doing it better. And so are you.”</p><p> </p><p>Looking at his mark, Harry took a breath and promised himself he’d love like that. The way his mum loved him and Connor and his dad. After all, if he could love his family like that then he could love his soulmate that way too.</p><p> </p><p>Resolved, he turned to face his expectant parents. His mum couldn’t stand still, and his dad’s fingers were twitching like mad.</p><p> </p><p>“Look,” he whispered. “It’s so pretty.”</p><p> </p><p>They smiled and Lily bent down to take a closer look.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, it’s so elegant, Harry,” she murmured. “This is a caduceus. A symbol of your future bond.”</p><p> </p><p>His dad knelt next to his mother and turned Harry towards him a tad to take it in himself.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s a good size, Har,” he added. “Easily seen but not covering too large of an area on your chest.”</p><p> </p><p>“Over your heart as well,” his mum offered. “It’ll be a strong bond if it’s located in such a vital spot.”</p><p> </p><p>Harry soared. This was everything he’d hoped finding his mark would be when he’d prayed to Lady Magic late at night. He wanted what his parents had, the ease of falling into step without trying, and now, he knew he would find it. His bond was going to be <em>strong</em>, he could already feel the pull. If it felt like this now, just hours after appearing, he couldn’t even imagine—and he’d imagined plenty—what it would feel like to find the mate to his mark.</p><p> </p><p>His dad’s comment brought him back to the moment.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s a shame these squiggles conceal part of your mark,” he muttered.</p><p> </p><p>Lily chastised him. “Magic has a reason for everything, James.” She tugged on Harry’s chin to bring his face back to hers. “And your mark is beautiful exactly as it is.” She threw her husband an exasperated look. “Don’t fret, love.”</p><p> </p><p>Harry’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?” He tilted his head to the side as he glanced down at his chest. He could easily make out the fluid cursive scrawled perpendicular across the upright staff.</p><p> </p><p>James’ whisper of, “We need to get his prescription checked again,” carried further than he intended. Lily just rolled her eyes as Harry’s nose scrunched up in response.</p><p> </p><p>“Why, darling? What do you think the curled lines mean?” She asked hesitantly, turning back to face her son.</p><p> </p><p>Harry looked up into her warm eyes, so like his own, and said, “Mum, they’re words. Can’t you read them?”</p><p> </p><p>Lily took a deep breath as his dad froze beside her.</p><p> </p><p>She calmly carried on. “What do they say then, Harry?”</p><p> </p><p>Harry could feel his dad’s magic tingling in the air around them, bursting at the seams of his control. It didn’t occur to Harry to be worried. Any anxiety or hesitation he might have felt was cancelled by the confusion of not understanding why his parents couldn’t see what he did.</p><p> </p><p>“They say, ‘The serpent of my soul,’ mum,” He replied. “And they wiggle like they can’t stay still.”  He poked at them to give an example and giggled as the words shimmied around like they were adjusting to his racing heartbeat. He couldn’t contain his glee as he did a little dance and almost slipped on the robes he’d pulled off earlier.</p><p> </p><p>“That sounds lovely, darling.” His mum said softly, a small smile softening up her face as Harry beamed and turned away.  If he had lingered a moment longer he might have spotted the tension in her temples or the worry in her eyes as she turned towards James.</p><p> </p><p>Harry threw himself at his dad, who caught him reflexively, chattering away about how fun his soulmate must be if the words that represented them were so engaging and how he’d have to read up on snakes. Maybe there’d be a clue in the type of snakes in his mark that would guide him to his soulmate, the way there had been in the lily in his father's mark or the miniature antlers in his mother's. At that line of thought he pulled back from his still-stunned father to ask his mum if she’d researched her mark when it appeared, then laughed and answered his own question.</p><p> </p><p>“Of course you did. You’re Mum. There’s no way you didn’t hit the books like the closet Ravenclaw dad’s always saying you are.” Harry babbled. “How did you know which books to look at? Can you show me? And what’s a caduceus and where can I look up the meaning—“</p><p> </p><p>Lily laughed, partly in fond exasperation and partly out of nerves. “Slow down, Harry, or you’ll get dizzy before you can get the rest of your questions out. Also, there’s nothing wrong with being a Ravenclaw, despite what your father and uncles may have suggested.” </p><p> </p><p>But Harry’s enthusiasm for the subject was boundless, and he had already turned back to his dad, questioning, “Did you look at books of flowers to figure out that your mark was a lily or did you just automatically know when you saw it? Did you ever meet a Lily before—“</p><p> </p><p>Harry cut off, broken out of his spiel by the dawning realization that something was wrong. His dad had been silent. Was still silent. His dad was the loudest, most talkative person he knew, with the only close competition being Uncle Padfoot.</p><p> </p><p>“Dad,” Harry’s confusion was clear in his voice. “Are you okay?”</p><p> </p><p>James choked on a cough, a tiny noise that sounded like it scratched on the way out. “Sure, Har.” He tried to clear his throat again, but it sounded like he could barely breathe. “Everything’s fine,” he continued. “Great in fact. You’ve got your,” he paused and then picked back up immediately, “mark, and things are wonderful.” He looked flustered, and everyone in the room could taste his magic crackling in the air around them. “Excuse me for a moment, Har. I think I could do with a glass of water. Must have gotten something stuck in there with all the excitement.”</p><p> </p><p>James was up, off the floor and out the door before Harry or Lily could even stammer out an, “Okay.”</p><p> </p><p>Harry turned back to his mother. “Mum,” he asked, his voice quivering a little. “Is Dad—“</p><p> </p><p>Lily pulled him into her arms. “Dad’s just fine. You heard him. He had something stuck in his throat.” She forced herself to relax and tickled Harry’s sides until he was gasping. “You just excited him so much he couldn’t think straight.”</p><p> </p><p>She peppered his face with kisses until he was shrieking and calling out for Connor to come in and distract Mum so he could escape.</p><p> </p><p>By the time James stalked stiffly back into the bathroom, his wife and sons were lying flushed and curled up together on the bathroom floor.  Connor stroked his brother’s new mark with one hand and exclaimed, “I can’t wait ‘til I get mine!”</p><p> </p><p>Connor quieted a little, then asked after a moment, “Is it as perfect as dad said it’d be, Har?”</p><p> </p><p>Lily and James both held their breath, waiting for Harry’s answer.</p><p> </p><p>Harry’s lips curled up into the most content smile either had ever seen cross their son’s face. “Yeah, Connor. It’s as perfect as dad said.”</p><p> </p><p>In the doorway, time stood still for James as he realized he’d have to make a choice here and now.</p><p> </p><p>He loved his son. Both his sons. The picture in front of him was everything he had dreamed of at eleven when he knelt before a red-head who took his breath away from the moment she spoke.</p><p> </p><p>He had to choose what kind of man he wanted to be.</p><p> </p><p>For a moment, he agonized over the decision.  If his suspicions about Harry's mark were correct, he could find himself pitched against everything he'd been working for these last ten years or be forced to turn his back on his boy. Then, looking down at the three most important people in his life, he knew there was no choice to be made at all.</p><p> </p><p>James held back a chuckle as he realized his wife was right, like usual. Soulmarks were about being exactly who you are. They lead you to greatness, but don’t ask you to be more than what you’re capable of being.</p><p> </p><p>As he watched the love of his life—a woman more clever than him by half—gaze down at his newly-marked son with the same boundless love as yesterday, he knew he could be the kind of man that accepted Harry regardless of who Magic said he was fated to complete. Loving his son wasn’t a choice he had to make, not from the first moment he held him in his arms over eight years ago. Harry was as much his pride and joy today as he was yesterday and last year and the day he was born. That hadn’t changed with his gaining a mark, nor would it in the future.</p><p> </p><p>Even if his son’s soulmate was, almost certainly, the leader of the Dark sect he’d been opposing in the Wizengamot since his parents had passed away when he was eighteen.</p><p> </p><p>Even if he was the closet Dark Lord Dumbledore has accused the man of being over the last decade.</p><p> </p><p>James took a deep breath and joined his family on the floor, pulling Harry to his chest and pressing a kiss to his messy hair. His wife’s eyes shone as she looked at him, and he knew this was the only choice he ever could have made.</p><p> </p><p>He and Lily would handle Harry’s unexpected soulmate the way they handled everything else: together.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>James and Lily sit Harry down to discuss his new mark. James reminisces on some of his and Lily's early struggles during Hogwarts.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Me: Here's how I think this whole story is going to go. It'll be relatively short, just five or six chapters. Nothing too nuanced. I can make James the villain.<br/>James: That is hilarious.<br/>James: Oh you were, serious? How dare you.<br/>James: I have depth, layers. I AM AN ONION.<br/>Me: But. . . but. . . this fic was supposed to be me just dipping my toes in to posting.<br/>James, whispering: I can be so much more if you just let me.<br/>Me: Fuck it, alright.</p><p>Or, in other words, how the James in my head completely took over my original idea and transformed this fic into something completely new. Hope you guys are in for the long haul.</p><p>Many thanks to my wonderful beta SolAnise for putting up with this chapter being more than twice as long as the first. And just for being awesome in general.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The next day, Harry’s parents sat him down in their family room. They gave him the best spot on the loveseat, the one that was just this side of toasty thanks to the nearby fireplace. His father had chosen to sit next to him while his mum pulled the brown leather armchair closer and perched facing the two of them. </p><p> </p><p>“Harry,” his mother started. “I know you’re thrilled to have gotten your mark.” </p><p> </p><p>“And we’re thrilled too!” his dad interjected. </p><p> </p><p>Lily suppressed a smile at how eager James was to show his support after his initial hesitant reaction. “Yes, we are,” she agreed. “But we wanted to talk with you about where things go from here now that everyone is a tad calmer.”</p><p> </p><p>“What do you mean?” Harry asked. “I mean,” Lily began in a soft yet firm tone. “That as exciting as it is that you have your mark, you shouldn’t put too much work into discovering your soulmate too quickly.”</p><p> </p><p>He looked over to his dad to find him nodding along to what his mum had said. “But,” Harry reasoned, trying not to get emotional. “But you two found each other so young. You weren’t even three years older than I am!” His dad moved a hand to his back and began rubbing between his shoulder blades. </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, sport. We met at eleven, but we had both found our marks at seven. Your mum and I each spent those four years searching for clues, the way I know you plan to do, but you can’t rush finding or sealing the bond with your soulmate no matter how much you wish to do so.” </p><p> </p><p>Harry tried to match his breathing to the rhythm of his father’s hand on his back while his mum picked up where his dad left off.  “You also know that when we did meet, neither your dad nor I were ready for it.” Her rueful smile prompted Harry to grin in return. “You’ve heard the stories.” </p><p> </p><p>All three of them shared a chuckle at that.</p><p> </p><p>“Sometimes, and I say this with plenty of buried resentment,” his dad said cheerily. “I joke that we could have been together six years longer if only your mother had realized what a catch I was from the start, but I know that we needed that time apart to grow into the people Lady Magic knew we could be.“</p><p> </p><p>“And that,” his dad emphasized, “is what we want to talk to you about today.”</p><p> </p><p>James moved his hand down to the spot where Harry’s mark rested under his t-shirt. “Tell me about what you feel from your soulmark.” He paused, letting Harry give it a moment’s thought. </p><p> </p><p>“Well,” Harry began. “There’s this sort of tightness here in my chest, and I can feel the build up of my magic right <em>here</em>,” he gestured to his collarbone, where the highest tip of his mark sat upon his skin. </p><p> </p><p>“I pulled into myself the way you taught me, Dad, and—“ </p><p> </p><p>His mum interjected, “Into your core, darling,” and Harry and James shared a quick grin.  Lily was never able to let an opportunity to teach pass by without comment.</p><p> </p><p>“Anyway, I can feel the way my magic has sort of, er, changed how it flows. Before it was a constant circuit that ran everywhere, all the way down to my toes. If I focused I could sense it gathering in my fingers when I pressed them together, but now it moves in pulses. Like a heartbeat, or, I guess, my mark pushing magic through my body and then it slowly flows back to center. Is that normal?” Harry asked, not panicking exactly, but a little uncertain about the sudden shift in his magic.</p><p> </p><p>“It is,” his dad answered. “Have you ever wondered why wixen receive our marks at such young ages, sport?” Harry recognized the Professor Potter tone in his dad’s voice and settled in for another lesson.</p><p> </p><p>Everyone who knew Lily Evans Potter would have probably thought she would be the one to take charge of her children’s pre-Hogwarts education.  Her strong interest in academia and her outstanding track record of applying her knowledge with creativity and flair made her the obvious choice.  However, it was James who led the charge when it came to their children’s instruction.  </p><p> </p><p>James was the one who had experienced homeschooling prior to Hogwarts. He was the one who had grown up steeped in the rich culture of Wizarding Britain, and, unbeknownst to their children, he was the one who had coached Lily on the central deities of Magic and why their world treated soulmates with adoration and utmost respect.  Her entrance to the wizarding world had been one fraught with confusion. If James’ knowledge hadn given Lily the framework to make sense of it and ultimately navigate through unknown waters their story could have ended very differently.</p><p> </p><p>James had spent the majority of his third year and part of his fourth explaining to Lily what he had learned at his father’s knee. The pair had converted an unused classroom on the fifth floor into a place they could speak as equals. Lily was able to ask all of the questions that had been building up without answers since she had discovered her mark and found out she was a witch. He had helped her work through children’s exercises and become one with her magic in a way she had never embraced it before their lessons.</p><p> </p><p>It had become necessary after Lily had unknowingly offered grave insult to Narcissa Black. The two had been trading school-girl barbs back and forth until Narcissa had insinuated that Lily was barely a witch, taunting her by saying even children had a better grasp on their magic. Riled up and hurt, Lily had lashed back, snapping that she felt pity for the poor sap carrying Narcissa’s mark having to deal with such a horrible bigot for the rest of their life. </p><p> </p><p>Lily had stomped off to Gryffindor tower, pleased to have had the last word. In her haste, she missed how every wizard-raised child in the corridor had stiffened at her words. </p><p> </p><p>Such things were <em>never</em> spoken of in public. The fear that your soulmate may choose to forsake the bond rather than seal it was a deep wound in the collective wizarding psyche. Pairs who agreed to willingly reject the bond were spoken of only in hushed asides, mothers clucking their tongues and fathers shaking their heads. The pairs where one partner rejected the other, leaving their soulmate bereft, adrift without hope? Those stories were buried, ignored and thought of late at night in dark rooms as fear of the future pressed in and teenagers prayed to Fate.</p><p> </p><p>“Please, don’t let them reject me. I don’t think I could bear it. <em>Please</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Lily had only part of this world for two years and was unaware of just how taboo her comment had been. She never turned around, never saw the older witches flock to a shaking Narcissa. She didn’t catch the clenched fists of every member of the Black family who had witnessed the scene, Sirius included.</p><p> </p><p>James himself was deeply disappointed as he watched his soulmate make a fool of herself, proving the youngest Black daughter to be correct in intention if not in her crass wording. Lily had no idea of the true impact of her words, the ugly implications that lay beneath them. This would mean another letter to his father, and the response wouldn’t be pleasant. He winced just thinking about it.</p><p> </p><p>He recalled the quill shaking as he wrote out a letter to his dad on his first night at Hogwarts. He had gotten the pleasantries out of the way, Go Gryffindor, and moved onto the news that had just changed everything for their House.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>There’s something else I have to tell you, Father. </em>
  </p>
  <p> </p>
  <p><em>I locked eyes with my soulmate today. The instant I saw her, I knew, and so I showed her my mark and told her that I thought she had been made for me. Before I could say the rest of it, father, the girl stormed out of the compartment</em>. </p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>
    <em>I had always thought the story of how you and Mum realized you were soulmates was so romantic. I’ve dreamed for years, ever since finding my mark and hearing you tell me about your bonding, that I’d say the same words to my soulmate when I found her. But,</em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>James remembered the lingering embarrassment of his eleven-year-old self seeing his teardrops mark the parchment.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>before I could finish with “And I for you,” the girl was gone. I just wanted to--well, it doesn’t matter now, does it?</em>
  </p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>
    <em>She’s been sorted into Gryffindor like me, and I’ve heard enough from asking around to know I needed to write to you immediately.</em>
  </p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>
    <em>My soulmate, Lily Evans, is muggle-raised, Father, and we’ve locked eyes. My magic has shifted, so I know it’s true. Following is what I overheard at the feast and in the common room before curfew:</em>
  </p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>
    <em>Both her parents are muggles, she has an older sister who did not get a Hogwarts letter and the only wix she’s met before Hogwarts is Severus Snape, who I think is the son of Eileen Prince. </em>
  </p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>
    <em>Mum’s told me the story of Miss Prince, and I think losing her soulmate after bonding so early led her to not informing her son about, well, anything soulmate-related. Which means Lily is ignorant as well.</em>
  </p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>
    <em>Father, I know what this means. You made sure of it. As a first-generation witch without a House to protect her, Lily Evans is now officially and magically under the shield of House Potter. I’ve tried to tell her. I asked her if I could have a private word, and she, well, (strikethrough) turned her nose up at (strikethrough), said no and walked away. She wouldn’t meet my eyes the rest of the night.</em>
  </p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>
    <em>I don’t know what to do. She doesn’t have other friends who can explain it to her. I’ll keep trying, but I’ve already messed up. I know you have to send the arm bands, but I don’t even know that I can get her to wear one. Will mine alone be enough to signal that House Potter has taken responsibility for her? </em>
  </p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>
    <em>Any advice you have would be good. My love to you and Mum. </em>
  </p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>
    <em>I miss you already,</em>
  </p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>
    <em>Jamie</em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>James sighed. Of course his Lily-flower was a witch; her magic  was untrained, unrecognized and lashing back at her because of it. Anyone properly in tune with their own who spent even a half-hour around her could tell Lily’s magic was unsettled, that she hadn’t soothed it or relearned how it moved since meeting her soulmate.</p><p> </p><p>Despite her innocent ignorance, James knew his duty. As an extension of Lily and the Heir of his House, he had barely waited for Lily to turn the corner before walking towards Narcissa. </p><p> </p><p>He sank to one knee before the teenage witch, holding his hands out in front of him, palms upraised and arm band with the Potter Crest and the word <strong>Obligatus</strong> embossed over it on display at his right wrist. </p><p> </p><p>“I, James Fleamont Potter, apologize to you Narcissa of the House Black and your soulmate, whoever they may be, on behalf of House Potter for the offense perpetrated against you by my soulmate Lily Evans,” he intoned, loud enough for everyone still stationed in the corridor to hear. James kept his chin tilted down, not allowing himself to see how he was received.</p><p> </p><p>“I will not make excuses for my soulmate,” James continued. “But I assure you now that her opinions neither reflect my own nor those of my House. I will speak with her and work to educate her in our ways so such an offense will never again occur. I also,” he hesitated for a moment before picking back up. “I also offer a gift of restitution from House Potter to you, Narcissa Black, that will add to the dowry you take with you in your future bonding.” </p><p> </p><p>Those wizard-raised lining the walls all tried to silence their sudden gasps at James’ proclamation, stunned and a bit awed at the gesture the Potter Heir was extending to a witch from a notoriously Dark family. While surprised, their peers were rather pleased at the statement James was making with his actions. </p><p> </p><p>He wouldn’t realize until a few years later how much respect from the community at large he had earned with his offer. </p><p> </p><p>Teenagers are want to write home with news, especially young wizards and witches with parents presiding in the Wizengamot. Such children had been raised to notice political opportunities and the shifts in tides, and seeing the long-awaited Potter Heir respecting their traditions to such an extent made many breathe soft sighs of relief after reading their children’s owls. </p><p> </p><p>The thought rang throughout the UK. <em>Thank Merlin, Fleamont has educated his heir. Traditions are not dark; they are our way of life.</em></p><p> </p><p>Narcissa broke the silence James’ words had evoked. “Heir Potter, please look at me,” she demanded kindly. “Thank you for your words. They mean much to me and to House Black,” she started, gesturing to her elder sister and cousins who had moved to stand fanned out behind her once James had knelt. </p><p> </p><p>“I accept your apology, and I appreciate that your House is willing to take responsibility for Miss Evans’ actions despite how they clearly do not reflect House Potter’s or your own feelings.” The soft smile she had allowed as she spoke to him turned business-like as she made to respond to the most noteworthy part of his apology. </p><p> </p><p>“I am also pleasantly surprised by your generous offer to me, but I wish to give you the option to rescind it with no offense given.” Narcissa took a deep breath and those closest—namely James and the other Blacks—could feel her magic gathering around the bicep of her left arm. </p><p> </p><p>“While I would never take an insult to me, my soulmate or the bond Lady Magic has graced us with lightly, I am aware that Miss Evans is thirteen and muggle-raised. While she has committed a few faux-pas in the past, this is the first time I have seen her directly insult such a fundamental aspect of our way of life. </p><p> </p><p>So, despite the,” Narcissa’s spine stiffened further, proving her next words to be a massive understatement. “Slight anger I still feel over this incident. I do not agree with your House paying such a price for its newest member’s first mistake.” </p><p> </p><p>The eyes watching them widened. </p><p> </p><p>For Narcissa to turn down such an opportunity was as stupefying as the original offer had been. </p><p> </p><p>A gift from House Potter, regardless of the price, would convey an important message, one that would benefit a daughter of House Black no matter who she was fated to stand beside.</p><p> </p><p>James took in the sight of the witch in front of him. Narcissa was standing tall and confident, family at her back, but she couldn’t fully hide the tightness of her eyes or a hint of lingering color creeping down her neck. His soulmate had done that, had made this witch question—even for a second—her worth to her soulmate, to Lady Magic’s gift. </p><p> </p><p>He understood. Of course, he did. He had worried every day since his soulmate had first turned her back on him on the Express. <em>What if she rejects me? What if she decides I’m not good enough, that she’d rather forsake our bond and the gifts that accompany it for someone better?  </em></p><p> </p><p>James could accept that he had brought such a fear upon himself with his thoughtless words to Lily. Even now, Lily had a right to question his worthiness, especially after two years of him disguising his fear and the hurt he felt from her continued snubs behind pranks and rule-breaking. Again and again he found himself acting out, doing anything to make her look at him with those beautiful emerald eyes, even if it was in disgust.</p><p> </p><p>But to make another feel this way, feel this gnawing terror that you were <em>less than</em>? That was unacceptable, even for an ignorant thirteen-year-old girl.</p><p> </p><p>“Miss Black, your generosity speaks for itself,” Narcissa blinked a second too long, proving James’ guess correct that she wanted to accept but wasn’t sure if it would help the image that she as a daughter of House Black already carried with her.  “And there can be no doubt that you are kind and gracious to let a thirteen-year-old wizard out of an offer he may not realize he is making. But I won’t let you refuse my gift,” James stated firmly.</p><p> </p><p>Her eyes were locked onto his steady hazel stare as he continued. “I know my age, my soulmate’s age and exactly what I and my House are offering you. She may be young and new to this world, but she is under my protection, even if,” James couldn’t hold back a slight wince, “She has not yet accepted, nor may ever accept that fact. House Potter is responsible for her, for the way she carries and presents herself in our world, and I have failed in my duty to her, to you and to the rest of our community by not having made the fullest effort to educate her.”</p><p> </p><p>“Her personal,” his eyes shuttered briefly before blazing with determination, “distaste for me,” the gazes of the other students in the hall held hints of pity. Having a first-generation soulmate was almost always excruciatingly difficult, be it from culture-shock, fear or stubbornness, and the Potter Heir seemed to be battling all three with his soulmate. “Aside, it is my duty, and I have failed in it thus far. So, please accept this offer from House Potter and my personal promise that I will not fail in my duty from here on out. I will be speaking with her and giving her the introduction to our world that she has missed.”</p><p> </p><p>The Blacks all had matching looks of grim satisfaction on their faces. From Andromeda to Sirius to Regulus, all three were pleased to see House Black prosper as well as for their sister and cousin to be given the respect she deserved. The trio were gratified to hear the issue was unlikely to occur again. Sirius silently resolved to speak with Evans in hopes that he could convince the girl to give James a chance to educate her.</p><p> </p><p>For all that Sirius struggled against some of his family’s beliefs, he could never stand for the insult to Lady Magic or the questions of his cousin’s worthiness. Especially not from a girl who spurned his best friend out of hand. </p><p> </p><p>Sirius would never forget the way James had blanched when Lily stomped out of their train compartment. The Black Heir had comforted his fellow eleven-year-old with soft words and an arm around his shoulder. His whispers of “It’ll be okay. Anyone who knew of soulmarks would have let you finish. You couldn’t have known by looking at her that she was muggle-raised. It’ll be okay. Auntie Dorea told me the story of your parents. You couldn’t have known Lily wouldn’t understand. It’ll be okay. You have time. You couldn’t have known. <em>It’ll be okay</em>,” still rang in his ears every time he watched his best friend’s eyes cling to that red-headed girl from the train. </p><p> </p><p>Sirius hated watching James shake as Lily held hands with the Snape boy as they chatted walking down the halls. He loathed the smug smiles the greasy-haired bastard shot James as Lily loudly complained to Sev about the loud-mouthed Potter spawn. </p><p> </p><p>He’d heard from his brother that Snape was searching for his own soulmate everywhere possible, so he knew it wasn’t romantic between the two of them. The prick just didn’t want to be less important to Evans, which would happen if she accepted James. He’d tried to tell his friend all of this, but James wouldn’t be taking anything about Lily Evans for granted again.</p><p> </p><p>James and Narcissa had locked gazes while Sirius got lost in his own thoughts. Understanding and respect passing between the two. He nodded his head to the slightly older witch, “I give you my word.” Magic rose in the air between the pair, and the watchers were once again set to witness something unexpected and profound in that corridor. The metallic tang of iron, blood and rosewater combined with the earthy twang of tallgrass and crystal and mint as their individual magics met and sealed the promise into their cores. James would stand well upon his word while Narcissa would hold him to it and step in if she saw him faltering in his task. The reputation of both their houses was now at stake.</p><p> </p><p>Something had happened in that hallway that had changed that small sect of his generation, had changed James and Sirius and—unbeknownst to her at the time—Lily.</p><p> </p><p>The moment would resonate in James’ heart long after its passing, echoing in the growing bond between them as he introduced Lily to all the aspects of magic to which she had never before been exposed. With time, Lily had realized the depth of the insult she had offered that day in the corridor and had worked with James to write out and present a full and heartfelt apology to Narcissa Black. Together with Professor McGonagall, the pair transfigured an armband out of an ivory tusk that would overlay her soulmark and attach to Narcissa’s robes as part of the gift from House Potter. From the etiquette that governed the complicated world of Lords, Heirs and Vassals to her own responsibilities as a shielded member of an Ancient and Noble house, through those meetings Lily had come to understand her connection to her Magic and her new world.</p><p> </p><p>The time spent together working on those lessons meant the world to them now almost twenty years later, but it was his promise to Narcissa Malfoy nee Black that had put him on this path and gave him the fortitude to accept and teach his son about his own soulmate.</p><p> </p><p>As Harry looked up at his father, expectant yet patient, James shook himself out of the memory. </p><p> </p><p>“Wizard-raised children are taught from young ages to seek out their magic and familiarize themselves with the feel of it as it courses through them.” James began. </p><p> </p><p>“You remember the exercises we taught you and your brother?” he prompted Harry. James had an interactive style of teaching his sons that Lily likened to Bacon’s scientific method. It was a running joke in the family for James to reply that the only scientific method he was interested in using was one that calculated how best to cook bacon to crisp perfection.</p><p> </p><p>Instead of answering, Harry closed his eyes and flexed his magic, teasing a larger flow of it into his hand. Lily and James watched with small smiles as the pads of his fingers and lines on his palm began to well with gold light, a softly glowing shimmer that spread to fill his open hand.</p><p> </p><p>Harry’s eyes blinked open and he accepted the three small copper spheres his dad had readied for him. Harry used his left hand to hold the small orbs over his right hand and pushed with the magic he had collected in his palm before dropping the orbs one by one. Harry’s magic caught them before they connected, causing the balls to hover a centimeter or two above his skin. With another minute of focus he urged the spheres to slowly rotate over his hand, well within the short range he could hold his magic away from his body.</p><p> </p><p>His parents watched him complete the exercise with no small amount of pride. Harry had struggled with this one for months and months during his lessons. It had caused a tense atmosphere at lunch for weeks after Connor had picked it up within days while Harry was on week three of trying , but they knew their sons and it had surprised absolutely no one that Harry had a tough time pushing his magic away from him. </p><p> </p><p>Harry had an intense connection to his magic, he felt for it easier and merged with his inner magic faster than Connor because Harry excelled at communing with the magic inside him. Connor, on the other hand, loved what magic could do more than the way it made him feel. So their younger son had a much easier time applying an outward push to his magic. Connor saw magic as a wonderful tool. Harry viewed it as a permanent friend.</p><p> </p><p>James stretched out his hand, leaving a flat open surface close to where Harry was finishing up. Harry took a deep breath before using another strong push to send the orbs back to his dad, accidently sending one a little too far in his effort. He shrugged sheepishly as his parents chuckled. </p><p> </p><p>“Sorry, Dad,” Harry said. His dad waved him off as he quickly levitated the ball back to him and put them away in the basket beside the couch. “Don’t worry about it, Kiddo.” James answered as he settled back in to pick up where they left off. </p><p> </p><p>“So, obviously, you remember those exercises. Do you remember what I told you about why you guys were going to learn them when I was teaching you?” Harry nodded eagerly, falling into the role of student. “Yeah, you said it was because recognizing the feel of our magic was important. That we need to know how it feels without a wand, when it’s just settled under our skin and we are living our lives. You told us it would help us sense the magic outside of us better if we could notice the magic we carry with us every day.” Harry parroted.</p><p> </p><p>James gave his son a smile. “Very good, Har. It is important that you can recognize your magic as it rests. Once you have that locked into your mind, you can use it as a reference, allowing you to recognize if someone else’s spell is active on you or if there’s foreign magic on an object that shouldn’t have any.” He continued, going further into the topic to drive home how crucial it was for Harry’s development as a wizard and why it was so useful in the coming years.</p><p> </p><p>“That exact reason is why you should wait to meet your soulmate.” Lily offered. Harry turned towards her to listen. “Your dad was the one who told me this when he taught me how to tune into my core.” </p><p> </p><p>“As you shared with us earlier, the way your magic has settled inside you has changed since you discovered your mark.” Harry’s eyes widened slightly as he caught on to what his parents meant. “The magic inside you that you’ve spent the past three years familiarizing yourself with has changed, and that means that your relationship to it has changed as well.” Lily finished.</p><p> </p><p>Harry tried not to whine as he asked, “Does that mean I have to go through each of the steps all over again?” </p><p> </p><p>James laughed as he shook his head, reassuring his son, “No. No, you won’t have to go through them all again. You already recognize your magic. It’s still yours. And, as you saw earlier, you’re still able to use it and manipulate it in the exercises we’ve been working on. No, the trick now is that you’ll have to monitor the new pathways that magic has made inside you, how the source of the magic in your body has switched.”</p><p> </p><p>“Soulmate magic is mysterious and wonderful, and it can often rewrite the muscle or magic memories that we’ve created.” James looked at Lily with almost unbearable fondness. “Both discovering our marks as well as coming into contact with our soulmate for the first time can change the feel of our magic. That’s why it’s so important to have time to find yourself and grow into your own before trying to pair up with the owner of your mark, Har.”</p><p> </p><p>Lily softly added, “It was one of the reasons I stayed away from your father as much as I did, even after we grew to know each other better.”</p><p> </p><p>“Being muggle-raised, I didn’t understand what was happening with my magic because I had never sensed it.  I didn’t grow up with it the way your dad, and now you and Connor, have. It felt like it was constantly fighting me, and I kept pushing back, struggling against my own magic and getting overwhelmed by the backlash.” Harry’s eyes widened and he sucked in a breath out of secondhand fear for his mother. </p><p> </p><p>“I had never been surrounded by so much magic before Hogwarts, having only briefly been exposed to Diagon Alley.” Lily continued, voice wavering in remembered pain. “I felt like I was under a constant crush, in over my head. So when it changed after meeting your dad and acknowledging our soulmarks, I had almost no chance at settling it on my own,” Lily admitted on a heavy exhale. </p><p> </p><p>“You, like your dad, will be able to soothe and relearn your magic relatively easy, Har. And I’m so thankful for that, but it will still be difficult. You’ll feel unsettled and like your magic is constantly reaching out to something, and I don’t want you spending so much time trying to follow it or fight it that you miss your childhood, the wonder of Hogwarts.” </p><p> </p><p>His mum was earnest in her conviction. “Your magic will adjust to using a wand and it will be growing and stretching until you reach your maturity. I couldn’t bear to see you harm yourself by prioritizing finding your soulmate over balancing your magic and growing into who you are meant to be.”</p><p> </p><p>Her eyes carried so much warmth as she pleaded with her son. “I don’t want that for you Harry. I don’t want you to question what’s happening inside you because something feels wrong and you don’t know what it is or why you can’t fix it. I don’t want you to lash out at the newness and cling to what is familiar. I don’t want you to lose who you could be in your search for someone else.” </p><p> </p><p>Her eyes took on a slight sheen as she watched her words sink in on her son’s face. Harry scrambled up off his seat on the coach and jumped into his mother’s arms, pressing his face into her neck and soaking in her calming lavender and lilac scent. </p><p> </p><p>“Okay Mummy,” Harry whispered, causing her arms to tighten around him. Harry hadn’t called her Mummy in over a year. “I’ll wait. I promise I’ll wait, no matter how much I want to find my soulmate. I’ll wait.”</p><p> </p><p>Lily released a shaky breath as Harry kept telling her over and over again he’d wait. She hadn’t meant to scare him or upset him. She just couldn’t bear if either of her boys experienced the turmoil she had, made the mistakes she had. </p><p> </p><p>Pushing James away and covering herself in a resentful attitude when she was younger was her biggest regret, and it had all been preventable if she had learned about magic at a younger age or in those blasted missing classes. </p><p> </p><p>She pressed a kiss, then another, into Harry’s hair, holding him a smidge tighter before letting her arms fall away. She wiped the stray tears that had escaped her compassionate little boy’s eyes and laid another kiss onto his nose. Lily kept him cuddled on her lap as James picked up where she had left off, giving mother and son a chance to collect themselves.</p><p> </p><p>“The change in magic is why most couples in the wizarding world who meet before reaching their majority wait until they are at least 17 to think about sealing the bond, and it’s why many wait until at least 21 if they meet within a year of their majority.” James explained. </p><p> </p><p>“Magic is always moving, shifting, transforming. It’s what makes our world so wondrous, but Lady Magic doesn’t wish for anyone to be too set in their ways. That’s why she offers us a counterpart, a person who fills the holes that we can’t address on our own. Someone whose edges merge with ours rather than grate. Each step in discovering who your soulmate is goes hand in hand with discovering who you are. So, as much as all of us, not just you, wished to be with our soulmate as soon as possible, we had to wait.” </p><p> </p><p>James left his place on the loveseat to move to kneel next to the armchair and pull his wife and son into an embrace. After a few moments, James pulled back and gave his wife a questioning look. Did they really want to put even more on Harry’s little shoulders? He was only eight. Lily gave him a nod in return. Harry deserved to know, and it was unfair to keep it from him.</p><p> </p><p>“Har,” James started. His son’s earnest face looked at him with so much trust and just a hint of disappointment. </p><p> </p><p>“Thank you for choosing to wait. I know it’s hard, and it hurts. I’m so proud of you.” Telling Harry something that made him so afraid, so <em>cowardly</em> was worth it if James could watch his son’s face light up for the rest of their lives the way it had just now. </p><p> </p><p>“And I’ll be proud of you no matter what you choose.” </p><p> </p><p>Harry raised his eyebrows only for his eyes to widen in shock at his dad’s next words. </p><p> </p><p>“Harry, we think we know who your soulmate is.</p><p> </p><p>And we will share our suspicion if you ask us to do so, but we would rather not.” James said with a rare solemnity. Lily added, “At least, not yet.”</p><p> </p><p>Harry let out a sigh of relief. They would tell him eventually. Now, even, if he asked. His mum went on to say, “If you agree, we would tell you the summer you turn ten. So you have a year before Hogwarts to accustom yourself to the idea. If we’re even correct,” Lily finished with no small amount of hesitation. James scoffed quietly enough for it to go unheard as Harry questioned.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you think it’s likely you’re wrong? About who my soulmate is?” Harry finally asked. </p><p> </p><p>He watched his parents share a look, but he couldn’t tell what they were agreeing to say.</p><p> </p><p>His dad was the one who gave him his answer.</p><p> </p><p>“No, Harry. We’re almost positive that we know who it is.” James paused, inwardly reminding himself to keep the reluctance out of his voice. “We can’t imagine it could be anyone else.”</p><p> </p><p>Harry beamed. </p><p> </p><p>And then, as the situation and the past twenty minutes of conversation came rushing back to him, he wilted slightly before sternly telling himself to be brave, to be a big boy who keeps his promises. Especially promises that make his mother cry in relief.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay,” he told his parents. “Two years isn’t that long of a wait, I guess. And you guys said I can still look up stuff about my mark, so it’s not like I have to drop the topic completely.” Harry said, whispering the next part under his breath, “knowing me, I wouldn’t be able to if I tried anyway.” </p><p><br/>Lily and James’ laughter rang out, echoing in the living room and prompting a warmth to rise in the room as their combined magic swelled. Their son was a delight, and if Harry had such a wonderful attitude, such a bright way of viewing the world at <em>eight</em>. Well, his soulmate had better watch out for a full-grown Harry Potter.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Lily and James tell Harry and Connor more about Harry's soulmate. The brothers share a few of their own secrets with their parents in return.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you so much to everyone who has read and left a comment on this fic so far! I really appreciate all the kind and encouraging words, and I hope you all enjoy chapter three. As always, a huge thank you to my beta SolAnise. Go check out her new fic Trifecta!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Harry had tried his best to keep his promise to not seek out information on his soulmate.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Over the next two years he had thrown himself into researching the mark itself instead, spending countless hours in the family library searching through dry, dusty tomes for answers to the questions he had rattled off when his mark had first appeared.  Harry wanted to know all he could about the symbolism of the caduceus, how to decipher what he could from the hints embedded in the details of the symbol. However, for every question he answered it felt like another took its place.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry had read about the upright winged staff covered with a pair of entwined snakes and how one could distinguish between the symbol of trade and negotiation and the healing-focused Rod of Asclepius (a caduceus had two snakes wound around it while the Rod only had one). He dove eagerly into the origin of both symbols, stuffing tidbits of Greek mythology and the interwoven family trees of its deities into his head. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He had begged his mother to take a close-up photo of his mark despite the taboo surrounding such actions, swearing that they’d destroy the photo after he had finished his research. Harry had poured through muggle biology tomes hoping to identify the exact species of the snakes wound about the caduceus on his chest. They were the zamenis longissimus, the snakes typically associated with the Rod’s medicinal powers, so it seemed there was a healing component to his Destiny.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>While most of the symbolism of his mark sat well with him, Harry flushed with shame to remember how worried he’d become about the snakes on his chest after the initial high of discovering his mark.. Before his anxieties could eat into him too deeply, however, his mum had sternly reminded him that there wasn’t a thing wrong with being associated with Slytherin. The  sly snakes of that house were good people, just like those from any other house, and she told Harry that he should be proud of every part of his mark. No matter what James and his grudge-holding friends said, Lily had finished with a grumble as she stalked towards James’ study, fiery hair flying behind her crackling with static and magic.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>So Harry, reassured, had accepted his mum’s words with relief, petted the snakes on his chest with one finger and gone back to his books. He had read up on the United States using the wrong symbol for one of their military’s medicinal branches, and he poured over every myth involving Hermes to see if his magic deemed the messenger god relevant. Harry agonized and then self-soothed at the connections to thievery and chuckled at how proud his dad would be at the hint of mischief associated with the messenger god who carried the symbol in his mark.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>After all of his searching, Harry now felt he had a much better idea of what Lady Magic saw inside him, what she was hoping for from him. Doing so much research into his mark made him feel as if he had discovered a mission from the deities imprinted on his skin. His soulmark was a promise, a path, a purpose.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>As Harry had put the pieces together and dug deeper into the possible interpretations of his mark, he had come to realize what Magic was likely calling him to be. When the epiphany first struck him, Harry had staggered back, slumping into the armchair where he’d been reading. Such a revelation had made it easier for Harry to accept that his parents were right. It was better that he waited to meet his soulmate. He had so much to do, learn, experience, before he would be ready to join his destined in their mission. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>When Harry had shared his conclusion with his mum and dad, they both tried to play it off like they were merely supportive. Instead, he saw a tension bleed out of their shoulders that he hadn’t realized had lingered after their first talk about his soulmark.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>After that, Harry had opted not to tell them that over the past year and a half he had figured out what his parents had realized on the day he’d found his mark. The words on his chest were in a language only he could read--parselscript--, and the only known living parselmouth in Britain was well-known and documented. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The man was also rumored to have an unrealized soulmark on his wrist that featured words over entwined snakes in, you guessed it, parselscript.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>So, Harry had done some subtle research on one Tom Marvolo Riddle, Lord Slytherin. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry had heard the name before, of course, mentioned gruffly or respectfully—depending on their family’s stance on the issue up for debate—at the dinner table or growled out when Uncles Moony and Padfoot joined Dad for a glass of firewhiskey after a vote went the other way. He’d even heard it whispered when Professor Dumbledore had come around for tea with his father one day. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>But all mentions of Tom Riddle, positive or negative, had ceased in the Potter house since Harry had discovered his mark. He shook his head and smiled, thinking about it. His parents, for all their brilliance, lacked subtlety. His soulmate was a frequent topic of conversation, never taboo, but spoken of only in generalities. Still, when Riddle’s name had disappeared from all conversation, even the ones in which his father spoke of the Wizengamot, it was a red flag. For all that Harry had atrocious eyesight, he had never struggled with recognizing atypical behavior and could spot a sign like that a mile away.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>After deciphering the likely identity of his soulmate, Harry made it a habit to read the paper every morning and asked his dad about the laws proposed and discussed on the ‘Gamot floor. Harry craved knowledge, and he had an insatiable need to <em>catch up</em> to his significantly older soulmate. In his quest for answers, Harry had slyly asked his Uncle Padfoot if he could look at books on lineage, He used his brother as a cover, explaining that Connor had been questioning him about their ancestors and ‘which of Harry’s friends they might be related to, so could he please check? What if he and Neville were long-lost cousins!’</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry snickered when he thought about how Uncle Padfoot’s easy smile and tendency to overlook what Harry was saying when he talked too fast could get him access to almost anything he wanted. He and Connor had counted (correctly) on Pads’ busy schedule and slight laziness to prompt the man to just add his pseudo nephews into the wards so they could read to their heart’s content. Pulling one over on a Marauder was quite satisfying, and access to the Black family library, albeit limited, was an even sweeter reward. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Their cover story was actually made legitimate when Connor’s mark appeared. Right before Connor’s eighth birthday, Harry had spotted an ouroboros seemingly woven out of multicolored blades of grass on the back of his brother’s neck. Ever since that day, Harry had a permanent partner amongst the endless stacks of parchment. As he and Connor flipped through dusty documents side by side in the library, they grew closer with each compared annotation or moment of comfort offered when the search became temporarily overwhelming.. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nothing appeased Harry’s remaining nerves about Lord Slytherin like the day his little brother had looked him in the eye and told him, “There’s nothing you could do, nothing you could say and no one you could love, that would change the fact you’re my big brother and you always will be.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry cherished the moment even more because Connor <em>knew</em> who his soulmate was. His little brother had <em>found the book</em> on magical languages that led Harry to the discovery of parseltongue. For Godric’s sake, Connor had even painstakingly drawn out the squiggles he could see on Harry’s chest so that they didn’t have to go tugging off Harry’s clothes to inspect it! Harry knew his brother meant every word, that his promise wasn’t made with the naivety of an almost-eight-year-old. Connor had made with the certain <strong>knowledge</strong> that Harry was destined for a man who represented the Dark.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>When Lily had found them curled up together reading her old copy of <em>The Brothers Lionheart</em> with red-rimmed eyes, she didn’t say a word. Instead she walked off to James’ study and plopped herself into his lap with no warning. The other half of her soul had simply laid down the report he’d been reading and leaned back to make room for her. The smile that broke across his face at her whispered, “We really are raising them right, aren’t we?’ cast a warm glow over the room. That night their contentment pulsed through the doorways and corners of the Potter house, and the four of them could feel that Lady Magic was pleased.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-----</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Harry! Connor!” Lily called upstairs to her sons one afternoon the summer Harry turned ten. “Come on down boys. Tea and hot chocolate in the living room with me and your father. Chop, chop!” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Is it Uncle Moony’s recipe?” Harry hollered back. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“As if I’d think I could get the pair of you down here with anything else?” Lily answered with an unseen eye roll. She knew better than to tempt them with subpar cocoa.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Lily laughed as her sons raced down the staircases, jostling each other but careful to contain their rowdiness to the last few steps of each flight. Nothing brought her sons out of their rooms or the library faster than the promise of hot chocolate made from the special edition chocolate slabs Remus created in his job as Honeydukes’ store manager. No one who had known the studious werewolf would have expected him to end up in that line of work, at least until his dormmates spilled about the never-diminishing candy stash that had claimed place of pride under Remus’ bed for seven years. Even now, the sandy-haired man was never without a handful of treats somewhere on his person, which he used to both bribe and appease his soulmate and their friends and godsons as needed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Connor swore up and down that Uncle Moony understood exactly how the ideal chocolate should taste, no matter what anyone’s individual taste buds may prefer. Lily might not have devoted the passionate hours to discussing the topic as her sons would, but she agreed.Remus had a gift, and he knew better than to show up at their house without two separate stores of chocolate. One for the boys and one for her--and James if she had decided to share that month.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>As Lily followed Harry and Connor to the family room at a more sedate pace, she couldn’t stop herself from wringing her hands. She and James had been dreading this conversation for almost two years now.  Even though she knew it would be an easier discussion than they had once feared, the lingering doubt that her sweet ten-year old son would cut himself off from her and James once he found his soulmate had yet to subside. <em>Lord Slytherin is fifty-four years older than Harry!</em>, Lily couldn’t help but think in despair. No matter how James had attempted to reassure her that such a gap wasn’t unheard of in the magical world, Lily had grown up in a society that would shun such a relationship, would actively persecute it. Godric, she never wanted to explain this to her parents and Petunia -Ha!- her sister would have a field day.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A pulse of familiar soothing magic caressed the sides of her neck, and Lily smiled as James pushed a wave of comfort down their bond. <em>James is right. Lady Magic knows what she is doing, and Destiny may push Harry, but never past his breaking point.</em> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Lily walked into the room where her family had congregated, plucking a steaming mug of cocoa from the tray on the center table and settling next to her husband. She hummed as she blew on the surface of the steaming beverage. Harry and Connor were comparing their findings from some book on the practical and modern uses of ancient languages that Sirius had brought over for them at Harry’s request. As she listened to her sons’ spirited discussion over its contents, Lily mused that she might need to borrow that book as well. It sounded like a rather fascinating read.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“D’you think we can set up some kind of experiment to test it out, Har?” Connor asked with excitement riding his voice. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah,” Harry said slowly, green eyes looking off into the distance above his brother’s head, running mental simulations. “I think I have an idea for how we can determine if it’ll work. If it doesn’t, though,” Harry continued, gaze refocusing on his little brother’s, “I have some more ideas for you that I wrote down last night. I’ll help you with those after we give this trial a go. I also think we could adjust the effectiveness if we both weave in a strand of our innate magic, but there’s no need to get ahead of ourselves before we know the easier path won’t work”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Connor’s smile was small, just an upturn of his lips at the corners, but his eyes shone. He’d tell anyone who asked how much he loved his big brother, even when Harry flew laps around the pitch out back faster than he did. Every. Single Time. Would it hurt Harry to lose just once? Honestly. Connor almost hoped he sorted into a different House when they were both at Hogwarts just so he could send bludgers <em>towards</em> his brother rather than away from him. Talented git. Harry couldn’t swing a beater’s bat the way he could though, so Connor wouldn’t actually mind if they sorted the same. It’d even be nice to have his big brother able to spend time with him in the common room or play their weekly Snap tournament in front of a fire instead of in some unused classroom.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Connor and Harry had both admitted to each other that neither thought Gryffindor was in the tarot cards for them. Both boys idolized their parents, not to mention their uncles. Their childhoods had been chock full of raucous fun and ringing laughter, and they wouldn’t trade a minute of their family’s open affection and attention. Still, Harry had a certain hesitance when he wasn’t on a broom, a sense of caution that made him think he’d be better suited for the house of eagles or snakes. Connor had a feeling he’d either join his brother in the pit or earn a place in the sett. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>They didn’t want to base their assumptions on how they’d responded to their soulmarks, but both could admit, if only to each other, that their actions had been telling. Their mum and dad had let the pair be, acknowledging their curiosity over their marks wouldn’t be assuaged by assurances that Fate would lead them to their soulmates when the time was right.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>As the research piled up, Conner had begun to wonder if his brother was capable of speaking parseltongue.  It would make sense, considering Harry could clearly read parselscript. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The pair had looked through every mention of the snake language they had found to see if it could be passed along a soulbond. They’d already found evidence that a strong bond could allow soulmates the opportunity to share a bloodline gift with their partner, but that usually only occurred after having sealed the bond. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>They’d shelved that thought for a while until chance had them stumbling across a snake while they were rambling about in the wooded area on the side of the Potter property. When Harry had heard the whispering, he had instinctively turned to pursue it before Connor had tugged on his sleeve, leading Harry to notice his younger brother’s excited and slightly fearful eyes. When Connor was excited, you could see tiny jade flecks break in on his hazel irises. “Harry, it’s a snake. What did you hear?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry’s face flushed with triumph. “Words, Connor. <em>Words</em>.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And so the duo had made friends with Sheba, the Ynghylch (Welsh Grass Snake) that made her home in their woods. While Connor couldn’t understand the serpent, he treated her with gentle affection and his enthusiasm for Sheba was reciprocated. That night before bed, Connor had whispered to Harry that he figured he would be better off getting comfortable with snakes sooner rather than later.  After all, Connor would wear one on his shoulder for the rest of his life.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>That comment was what had spurred Harry and Connor’s current research. Harry was terrible at switching between parseltongue and english on command, but he had gotten a word or two out of his own snakes on accident when he had been talking to himself aloud while heading back to the house after a conversation with Sheba. He struggled to switch into the sibilant tones of parseltongue away from a live snake, so he had yet to hear anything other than a soft <strong><em>Our Speaker </em></strong>as a greeting.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Now, the brothers were determined to get Connor’s snake to respond to the language. As much as Harry wanted to know more about what his own mark could tell him, they’d already discovered who bore the matching mark. Connor still had no idea about his future match. Harry was sure their parents had a guess, but they were less certain (and less worried) about their younger son’s soulmate.The parselscript across Harry’s caduceus had given his own mate away, but Connor’s remained a mystery. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>So now, the brothers were coming up with a plan for how to coax Connor’s snake into speaking with them. Harry had felt the snakes on his own mark react to parseltongue before, but they were in tune with Harry’s magic. The trick, Harry was certain, was to convince Connor’s snake that Harry was trustworthy. They hoped to do so by feeding the ouroborus a taste of their combined magic. Then maybe, hopefully, the snake on Connor’s shoulder could reveal the identity of his brother’s soulmate.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The sound of a throat clearing from across the parlor pulled Harry out of his plotting and drew his and Connor’s attention to their amused parents. His mother shot a quick warming charm at all of their hot chocolates and smoothly moved the conversation back on track.. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well boys, as fascinating as it is to watch you two plan something of which your father and I have no knowledge,” she started with a raised eyebrow in their direction. The brothers sent bold grins back, sheepishness absent. “Your father and I called you down here because we have decided it’s time to return to the conversation about Harry’s soulmark and soulmate.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Connor frowned slightly. “Then why—“</p>
<p> </p>
<p>James chuckled as he cut his youngest off before he could finish the question. “And we thought it best to include Connor in this chat considering we all know Harry’d turn around and tell you immediately after if we left you out.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The brothers looked at each other and nodded. Their dad had a point, but no one liked to be predictable, especially not the sons of a Marauder.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Lily picked up from where she had left off prior to Connor’s interruption. “As you remember, Har, your dad and I promised that we would share the name of who we think your soulmate to be the summer you turned ten.” While Harry was almost completely certain he already knew the identity of his soulmate, he couldn’t help but focus on the obvious resignation in the lines of his mum’s face. It was hard seeing the signs of his parents’ hesitance, if not outright disapproval. The soft smile playing on his mum’s lips appeased Harry a little though, despite his anxiety.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We think it’ll be best if you have a full year to sit with the knowledge before you head to Hogwarts,” his dad added. “While we still don’t want you to search them out, your mother and I agree that you should be focused on school rather than discovering the identity of your soulmate. Hopefully,” he continued, his clear disbelief in his next statement apparent in the slight roll of his eyes, “solving the mystery for you in advance will help keep you focused on transfiguration and charms rather than extracurriculars.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh,” Harry smirked back at his father. “Are you saying I should stay away from Quidditch then, Dad? I mean,” his smirk grew bigger as he watched his dad’s eyes widen in horror and his mother not even attempt to stifle her snort. Harry could feel Connor’s silent laughter to his left, shaking the cushions as he tried to keep himself from letting it out. “If extracurriculars are a distraction then I guess I’ll just have to soldier on, leaving the seeking to some other kid.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“HARRY, no! That’s not—I mean, it’s Quidditch! Teaches you teamwork and sportsmanship and-- and-- and important lessons, just like your classes.” James babbled, dumbstruck at the idea of his son missing out on the glorious highs and lows of Hogwarts’ Quidditch Cup.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The other three Potters burst into full-on laughter, Connor thumping Harry on the back and Lily patting James’ arm through her guffaws.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh yes, very funny you three. Ha ha ha. Give your father a heart attack, why don’t ya Harrison.” James blustered, swiping a hand through his hair.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh Merlin,” Connor gasped, laughing even harder. “You got hit with a Harrison. From Dad! DAD!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>That set Harry and Lily off further, and James grumbled under his breath and crossed his arms over his chest like a petulant toddler while his family took another couple of minutes to settle down and wipe away the tears that had sprung up.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Alright, alright. Can we get back on track?” James asked. “Honestly, this lot,” he huffed. “What am I to do with you three?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sorry love,” Lily said, nodding. “You’re right.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Thank you.” James responded curtly. Harry, Connor and Lily all pursed their lips to hide their smiles at James’ remaining churlishness. “As I said before I was so hurtfully taunted by my own progeny, your mother and I think it best to tell you who we suspect your soulmate to be, Harry. That way you have time to get used to the idea and shift your focus away from your search for their identity.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Dad--” Harry started. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No, Har, just let me get through it all. It’s hard enough to think about you growing up and going to Hogwarts for most of the year. Thinking of you leaving home forever to be with your soulmate just makes me feel an empty loneliness.” James said dramatically, hand over his heart.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry sighed, but looked at his father with Lily Evans’ patented doe eyes. “Fine, but you could have—“</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Nope, you agreed.” James cut in. “Now no interrupting.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry mimed zipping his lips while Connor lifted a hand to cover his mouth and hide his amusement. Connor knew his brother had been about to reveal that he had already guessed the identity of his soulmate to be Lord Slytherin. His dad didn’t actually have to go through the whole difficult reveal. James was inflicting this torture upon himself willingly by shushing Harry.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Alright. I’ll just come out and say it. Your mother and I suspect your soulmate to be one specific person because you said you see words instead of squiggly characters on your chest. While we aren’t one-hundred percent positive, the snakes and the words you translated indicate that the phrase is likely in parseltongue. It is a rare magical language that allows anyone who speaks it to talk to snakes. There is only one known living parselmouth in Wizarding Britain, and it is well known they have yet to meet their soulmate. There is also a rumor that this person’s mark also contains a parseltongue phrase, but that can’t be confirmed, considering no one has seen the mark in recent memory.” James rambled.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry was impressed. His father has rattled all that information off in what seemed to be one long exhale. Incredible lung capacity. He was less impressed with the information, considering his dad had a few facts about parseltongue wrong, but he doubted his parents had studied the subject the way he and Connor had done.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“All that being said,” his dad continued after a ragged inhale. “We think it only logical that your soulmate is Tom Riddle, otherwise known as—“</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Lord Slytherin,” Harry finished, as if it all was common knowledge. Which it was, to him. “A man who has been touted many times before as writing his Wizengamot meeting notes in a language no one else can decipher,” Harry continued, to his parents’ shock. “A language that has been purported to look ‘wiggly’ according to a source, and that is generally accepted as the written form of parseltongue considering Lord Slytherin is an acknowledged possessor of his family’s ancestral gift.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The corner of Harry’s mouth tugged upwards at the sight of his father’s gaping jaw and his mother’s fiery flush. “Also, Dad, the written form of the language is technically called parselscript rather than parseltongue, for when we talk about it in the future. The words on my mark are written in parselscript.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Connor watched Harry’s pleased expression and could understand his brother’s slight smugness over the situation. Their parents had underestimated them, underestimated their access to knowledge. <em>Thanks Uncle Padfoot</em>. He knew his parents would support him and Harry in their future relationships, but his mum and dad’s hesitance over Lord Slytherin stung for both brothers, albeit in different ways.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>For Harry, the perceived lack of trust was one he felt keenly. His parents didn’t trust him to wait, to handle the knowledge without running headfirst into a much older man’s arms. They didn’t trust him to be suited for the pairing that Lady Magic had woven, didn’t trust him to stand up for himself or make his own decisions. Harry knew his parents loved him, but that didn’t mean they <em>believed</em> in him, and it hurt.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The sting prickled differently for Connor. Yes, it frustrated him that his parents didn’t see their sons as capable. This conversation proved beyond a shadow of a doubt how poorly his parents understood what he and Harry were capable of achieving. No, what bothered Connor was that his parents didn’t worry about him the way they did his big brother. Of course, Harry could handle himself, but that wasn’t the point. If Mum and Dad were so concerned about Harry carrying the mark of someone from the Dark faction,, then why weren’t his parents more worried about <em>Connor’s</em> mark? </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He flexed his back and rolled his shoulders just thinking about the ouroborus marking his right shoulder blade. Harry would often trace the figure eight shape as he tried to coax the snake into talking back to him, revealing it’s partner. They had deduced the species, revealing the snake to be of a natrix natrix or common grass snake. It shone a pale jade with spots of turquoise and periwinkle and gracefully undulated upon his skin.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>If the snake association and parseltongue aspect of Harry’s mark worried Mum and Dad, why was none of that worry directed towards Connor?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He wasn’t jealous of Harry, not when his brother had shared how he felt under the weight of their parents fears and assumptions. Still, Connor’s mark was astonishingly similar to Harry’s, which was rare. He remembered pointing that out after reading about the rarity in, ‘Familial Bonds and Unbindings,’ only for Harry to snort. “Shocker, another unexpected twist on my mark. Brilliant.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>At seeing the flash of hurt in Connor’s eyes Harry had bumped his shoulder into his brothers. “But I guess if there was one twist to my mark that would be okay, it’d be this one. Now let’s go sneak some of that triple chocolate mint ice cream Uncle Moony brought with him yesterday, yeah?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry had always been good at that, soothing his aches. Now, Connor’s big brother had a chance to have his own wounds dressed, and he wanted that for Harry, wanted it badly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Harry,” Lily started. “How did you—“</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“How did I know?” Harry raised an eyebrow in response. “Well Mum, a couple ways, but it was pretty clear from about day three of having my mark that I was the only one who could read the words on my chest. Did you never think that Connor would admit he couldn’t read what I could? My curiosity is a running joke in this house. I’ve had a list of questions I wanted answered, and I’ve found the answers to most of them.” His parents’ faces showed a mix of mortification, sadness and guilt. Harry loved them so, so dearly, but he could admit to himself that he was reveling in their response.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>For the past two years both of his parents had made it clear that they supported Harry. They’d been obvious and explicit in how much they loved him and desired his happiness. It was wonderful, and Harry felt grateful that his parents accepted him. But…</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His parents didn’t accept his soulmate. Not really. It had been subtle, and if Harry hadn’t discovered who his soulmate likely was, he probably wouldn’t have noticed. Lord Slytherin had become a taboo topic in their house since Harry’s mark had appeared. When his name was uttered the mention was accompanied by furrowed brows and stiff backs. Sure, when anyone mentioned ‘Harry’s soulmate’ it was with an excited smile, but once Harry had found the name Tom Riddle, he couldn’t help but think those smiles seemed forced.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Harry, I thought we asked you not to go looking for your soulmate.” The hint of reprimand in his mum’s voice set the ten-year-old off.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, you did, but that’s bloody unfair and hypocritical isn’t it.” Harry threw back. He waved off his dad’s protest, not at the language but at the statement. “Oh, I get why you did it. I do, and I’m not terribly upset about it. Because, quite honestly, I wasn’t searching for my soulmate’s identity.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What?” James asked, his confusion clear. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I really wasn’t. I’d Promised Mum, hadn’t I? A Potter keeps his Promises.” Younger emerald met older hazel and both sets of irises glowed slightly at the invocation of a House Code. James nodded and both he and his son relaxed. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Connor and Harry each felt a piece of the frustration they’d been holding onto dissipate as they realized how much of their dad’s reaction had been fear at the thought of Harry breaking a Potter’s Promise.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I was more interested in figuring out why I could read the words on my chest when no one else could. About three dozen books later,” Harry sent a glance towards his brother who rolled his eyes and smiled back. “We had hit upon the idea of parseltongue. A theory made easy to confirm courtesy of the lovely little garden snake that has her nest out near the creek.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Lily’s aghast gasp brought grins to both of her son’s faces and Connor immediately turned to reassure her, “Sheba is great, Mum. Really! She’s sassy and protective and her scales are so smooth and pretty. She guards us whenever we swim now!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You,” James hesitated. “You talk to the snake, Har? You’re actually able to speak parseltongue and hear it, not just read it?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes.” Harry softly confirmed, eyes lowered slightly. He could feel his brothers hand drop on his back, rubbing softly, but he couldn’t see the glance his parents exchanged and the resolve that moved between them.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Harry, that’s wonderful.” Lily told her son. Her words were firm, and Harry brought his head up to look at her so fast his vision blurred at the edges. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It is?” Harry whispered. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>His dad nodded. “Son, parseltongue is a gift. A very rare gift,” James’ rueful smile didn’t distract from his earnestness. “As you have no doubt discovered in your research.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Your mother and I may not have been as supportive as we thought we were being, but you should know, need to know, that our hesitance about Lord Slytherin has nothing to do with this magical gift you both share. It has nothing to do with snakes or Hogwarts houses, as you can see with how little we worry about your brother’s mark. You having the ability to speak parseltongue is marvelous, a credit to our House and the bloodline you are a part of and will continue. Don’t ever doubt that, even if we sometimes make you doubt us, okay?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The wall Harry had been putting up around his emotions crumbled. He had tried his best to push the desperate desire to have this all be okay down deep in his chest. He had a much older soulmate. He needed to be mature and strong and willing to put up with other people not approving of this pairing.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But Harry was a ten-year old boy. He didn’t even have a wand, yet. For all Harry’s curiosity and the draw of his soulmate, what he really wanted was <em>this</em>. He had needed his parents to tell him that his soulmate was a blessing; not the <em>idea</em> of his soulmate, but the <em>reality</em> of a soulmate. One who was born decades before even his own parents, who spoke to snakes and could write in a magical language. They could all stop speaking in abstracts now, which meant Harry could finally hear his parents admit that his bond with Lord Slytherin was a blessing rather than an unfortunate decision of Destiny.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry didn’t realize he’d started crying until he felt his dad’s arms pull him into his chest. He blinked and looked up, tears still leaking down his face. Connor’s legs were tucked on top of his, and his mum had one arm wrapped around his brother’s waist holding him to her while the other had moved into Harry’s hair, stroking his messy locks. The Potter family half-knelt huddled together on the floor of the parlor, in no hurry to get up or pretend like this group cuddle wasn’t necessary.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Connor whispered, “Bear, let your magic out. Please. You heard them, they won’t mind.”</p>
<p>Neither boy could see it, but James had closed his eyes in pain. Lily felt his anguish down their bond, and she knew hers would be echoing back towards her husband. <em>We’ve failed</em>, was all they could think at hearing their son had been restraining his magic in front of them.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>James pressed a kiss to Harry’s forehead and agreed. “Let it out, sport. You can feel whatever you want, you don’t have to keep any of it in. Not for us and never in this house.” James’ breath hitched. “And I’m so sorry you thought you needed to.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry felt a tear not his own drip down his temple and turned to wrap his arms around his father’s neck. “Dad, no. I—no. I’ve just been so angry,” he admitted. “You and Pads would talk about the Wizengamot, but you stopped saying Tom’s name.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Lily flinched at how easily her son had said the man’s name, but when Connor looked at her with an angry gaze she mouthed <em>sorry, bad habit</em> and he relaxed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And I felt like—like you didn’t want even the thought of him in the house. Which, I guess would have been okay, but I <em>knew</em> you suspected he was my soulmate. So, I just. Worried  . . . “ Harry faded out.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His dad’s voice shook as he asked, “Worried about what exactly, Har?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Worried that, for all you guys talked about ‘my soulmate’ you were actually disappointed that it was him. And if you were, then that would mean you were disappointed with me for being his soulmate, because Lady Magic doesn’t make mistakes.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh Harry, no darling. No,” Lily said. “You are a wonderful boy, and we are NOT disappointed in you or your match.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>James nodded. “Your mother’s right. You’re too smart not to have noticed some of our discomfort with the idea, and that is on the pair of us. But Harry, that discomfort is not about the idea that you and Lord Slytherin may have a relationship. It’s well, more about the logistics.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Huh?” Harry responded.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Tom Riddle, for all that your uncle and I may not always agree with his politics, is not a bad man. I’ve spoken to him many times. He’s intelligent and witty. He’s passionate about his beliefs, and he cares deeply for his friends. Those are all good traits, and things I see in you as well. No Harry, the main problem is that your soulmate is more than half a century older than you are. While an age gap like that has happened before, it’s still difficult to wrap our minds around, especially for Mum.” James told him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“There’s also,” James continued with some slight hesitance, “some unflattering rumors about Lord Slytherin’s activities outside of the Wizengamot chambers. I’ve told you before that it's best to take the gossip you hear with a grain of salt, and that it is always best to judge a person or situation based on your own evidence. In that vein, I don’t plan to condemn Mr. Riddle. However, caution is wise when you have yet to find the truth for yourself, which is why your mother and I have worried about your match with the man.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>James paused as he saw Harry process everything he had heard so far and gather himself to ask a question. At Harry’s query he almost wished his sons were a touch less observant, a touch less intelligent.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What’s the rumor, Dad?” Harry asked, voice strong and certain in his belief he deserved to know the answer. “It has to be pretty bad if it has been making you question the deities’ decision to pair me and Lord Slytherin together.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>James just stared at his son, wishing he had a different answer to give. Harry’s emerald eyes blazed back at him, and James gathered his courage to deliver his next words with no inflection, as if he were merely relaying what they’d be having for supper tonight.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“There are whispers that Lord Slytherin is behind the disappearances and ritual murders that have been happening throughout Britain and Europe over the past forty years.” James said.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry’s eyes widened, and he stuttered out a follow up question. “D-dad, I thought those were the work of some Dark Lord that’s been working in the shadows?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>James sighed and Lily hugged Connor closer to her chest as he silently shook in her arms. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That’s the rumor, Har, that Lord Slytherin is actually the Dark Lord.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>At Harry’s blank-faced silence, James began to worry. He picked back up after the pause to let Harry respond had gone on for too long. “Sport, I know that can’t be what you wanted to hear, but you need to know it’s just a rumor. There’s no evidence, no official investigation, none of that.” Harry blinked a few times in quick succession, and James continued as saw Harry’s shoulders relax slightly. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s gossip, but I haven’t believed it for a moment. Mum and I worried when we realized he was your soulmate because as parents it’s our right to worry about you, even if it means being anxious about the <em>extremely</em> <em>unlikely</em> possibility that such an outrageous thing were true. Understand?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry nodded slowly and turned his head to look at his brother. Connor could see Harry’s need for reassurance, so Connor reached out to grab hold of his big brother’s hand. Harry squeezed the smaller hand in thanks and turned back to hear more from his dad.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’ll be honest with you, Harry,” James said. “Lord Slytherin can be ruthless in the pursuit of what he wants, and he is not known for holding back his criticism when someone makes a mistake. He’s a man, just like any other, with his own flaws and strengths. Those flaws don’t make him a Dark Lord, nor do they have to prevent him from being a wonderful soulmate to you.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>James hoped he had adequately reassured his son. Of course they weren’t questioning what it was about <em>Harry</em> that made the pair a good match. Their son was incredible, and anyone destined for him should have the <em>–Oh</em>, James realized. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>His wife looked up at him as she felt a change in his emotions. He met her eyes and then made sure to focus on Harry as he said, “You are incredible. We know that, and we haven’t changed our minds on that since you got your mark. This,” he used his thumb to rub away Harry’s tears, “could have been avoided if Mum and I had taken the time to tell you what we already knew in our hearts. If we have such an amazing son, anyone who is marked as his soulmate should get the benefit of the doubt. Of course anyone Lady Magic matched with our child must be similarly wonderful, she would never pair you with someone undeserving of the gifts you bring, especially not a Dark Lord.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>More tears fell from Harry’s eyes. He looked over at his mother to make sure she agreed, and he saw that she was on the verge of crying as well. Her eyes sparkled with unshed tears, the liquid shine making them more intense and she mouthed <em>absolutely</em> in response to Harry’s silent question. When he moved his gaze lower, Connor’s smile was brilliant. His brother was selfless enough to let this moment be about Harry, to be joyful that <em>Harry</em> was soothed and accepted.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry grinned back and turned to face his dad. His father’s eyes held the same resolve, and after a moment of checking to see if he’d waver—he didn’t—Harry dropped the last of the barriers he’d developed over the last year.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His parents gasped as Harry’s golden magic curled around them, beckoning them closer. Both could tell that his inner magic has a sinuous feel to it that they hadn’t noticed before, likely a product of Harry’s acceptance and use of the snake language.  No wonder he had kept his magic locked inside if he was worried about them accepting his soulmate. Harry’s magic was heady. It sat richly on their tongues, a decadence stopping just short of cloying.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>As Harry’s magic swelled on his skin and broke off in wisps that began floating around the parlor, his family each reacted to the feel and sight of his magic in their own way.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Lily let it roll off her, sluicing across her skin like water. Long hours of work as a teenager had left her with a deep understanding of how her magic flowed. It filled her to the brim, buzzing underneath her skin, and Harry’s magic brushed over hers like a hand stroking velvet, touching but not mingling. Her eyes sparkled as she watched the wisps spin and dance, moving down to caress her face before bouncing back up to bob along next to the others.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>James could have brought his own magic to rest on his skin and act as a subtle barrier, but he chose not to do so. He had loved to feel his magic mingling with either of his sons’ when they were babies. He’d often let them fall asleep on his bare chest and submerge into sensation. The feeling of sharing magic had allowed him to bond with them on a level that only Lily could relate to from when they had still been in her womb. Now that he was experiencing his son’s magic fully for the first time in a year, it felt like coming home. It was like someone flipping on a light switch in a room you’d been working in during the day when you were so focused on your task that you hadn’t realized it had shifted to the night. You’d blink, and the room was suddenly awash in brightness. Feeling Harry’s unshuttered magic was like that: still comforting, still home, despite the change. James made some of his own small crimson sparks run over his skin, playfully zapping at any golden wisps that teased at him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Connor didn’t react to the sight of Harry’s magic physically manifesting. He was used to the gleaming curlicues twirling in the air when Harry released his hold on his magic. In response, Connor let his own magic bubble up and out of his core to meet his brother’s in the empty space above them all. Connor’s magic manifested like a puff of air or a lazy wind, giving off a soft translucent shimmer. It was cool and sparkling, and felt like carbonated water bubbling next to their ears. Connor’s winds circled the room, leaving a bronzy sheen in their wake while Harry’s used the gusting nature of the winds as a springboard, so little curls of golden magic were spiraling off into the corners of the room as his brother’s tawny magic flowed, pushing them further away.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Lily and James knew the boys practiced magic together and often did their magical exercises at the same time, but that part of their lessons hadn’t needed to be supervised since a month or two after Connor had found his mark. This was the first time their sons had physically manipulated their magic together in front of their parents in almost a year, so it made a large impact on the married Potters.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Boys,” Lily whispered, as if not wanting to interrupt the party in the air around them, “This is incredible. How long have you been practicing this?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“A while.” Connor admitted. “It started as a way to help me get back to being comfortable sending my magic out after I found my mark. I’d been, well, afraid that it would somehow mean I cared less about my mark if I was always pushing my magic out. So, Harry said we should do it together.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>James ruffled Harry’s hair and whispered, “Atta boy,” under his breath so as not to interrupt Connor.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“By the time I was comfortable with my magic again,” the youngest Potter continued, “Harry had started trying to speak parsel, and he told me felt his magic had shifted in response to it. So I suggested we just keep pushing with the exercises, since Dad said doing more wouldn’t hurt as long as we listened to our magic and didn’t push past our limits.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well boys,” James said as Connor had faded into silence at their parents’ awed looks. “I’m quite impressed. You both have better control than I did at your age, even probably into my first year at Hogwarts. The separation that you’ve kept between each other’s magic while allowing them to interact reveals your skill, and you should definitely continue to practice.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It will help you both a lot with transfiguration,” Lily added. “A great deal of the difficulty in transfiguring is the control of your own magic and your ability to intermingle it with another object or creature, many of which contain their own innate magic.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Minnie will be pleased!” James crowed. He grinned at Lily’s cough and pointed look. “But that’s Professor McGonagall to you lads, at least for now. Can’t have the old cat sending me a howler the first time you let that one slip.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The parlor filled with laughter, and this moment would remain fixed in the minds of all four Potters throughout the boys’ Hogwarts years and after. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>For Lily and James, it was a reminder that their sons were young but capable. They might sometimes bend to the influence of the people around them, but at their cores they would be firm, rooted maple trees, unwavering in their convictions. As parents, they might question their sons’ choices from time to time, but they would not doubt their natures, their strength of will.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>For Harry and Connor, it was a reassurance that their parents understood and accepted who they were and were okay with how they would change. The boys would grow and adapt and their perspective would shift, but their parents had faith in who they were meant to be and meant to be <em>with</em>. Their support, even if they didn’t always agree, would not waver.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The shining moment gave the room a relaxed atmosphere, and James, in his contentment, decided to give Harry an opportunity.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So, it’s clear you know about Lord Slytherin.” He began. “But, with your Promise you probably know more about every other aspect of your mark than about Tom Riddle himself.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry nodded cautiously.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“While I know I would love to hear you tell us all about what you’ve discovered the past few years,” James began.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Lily interjected with, “So would I!” and everyone chuckled.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“As I was saying, while we’d love to know, I also think it is only fair to release you from your Promise. I still ask that you focus on your classes rather than your soulmate while at Hogwarts, but knowing you, curiosity has been eating you alive ever since you found out.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry relaxed as the magic binding his Promise unfurled in his chest, but then inhaled sharply at his father’s next words. “With all of the waiting you’ve already done, I’m of the opinion that you have a right to see and observe your soulmate in person before you start school.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Now before any of you jump in, let me clarify--” James intercepted the excitement, curiosity and chastisement from Connor, Harry and Lily respectively. “Your mother gets a vote too, Harry, so don’t get too excited yet. Just let me explain why I think this is a good idea.  You should be allowed to put a face to the name that’s been flying around inside your head. I also think you should get to see him in the space that you’ve heard him discussed.  I trust you, Harry, to handle yourself and your curiosity.  You’ve worked hard to keep your Promise to us and it shows.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh!” Lily said. “I guess that does solve that then, hm.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Exactly,” James agreed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Could you guys use your words, please. Not all of us caught that.” Connor teased.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“The Ministry is trying to emphasize the importance of family lately, so there’s been talk of letting employees bring their children to work to see what their parents do.  They’re going to let us show you around and have some of their assistance take some pictures of everyone who comes.” James explained.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So, a publicity stunt.” Harry deadpanned. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“More of an opportunity for them, and,” James nudged his son, “for you, Har. It would be a great excuse to bring you to a Wizengamot meeting, and while I had debated doing so earlier, I think it could be a good learning experience for you. Connor, you can come too if you want, but the meeting will be long. If we do this, it’ll be part of House training for whoever goes and I’ll expect a report afterwards.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Connor looked at his brother apologetically. “Sorry Har, you can tell me all about it, but I’m still working on that quidditch natural magic overview, and my calligraphy is pants. I can’t just turn in my fresh thoughts.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No problem, Bug,” Harry replied. “I know you’d be happy to be there with me, but I think it might be good to do on my own. I’ll still tell you all about it when I get back.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Before you go getting too excited, I have one condition for you accompanying your father.” Lily spoke up. “While I think your dad’s right that you deserve this chance, I ask that you be careful not to meet the man’s eyes, Harry. Yes,” she held up her hand, staving off her son’s complaint. “I know you’ll be observing him, that’s the whole point. Still, if you lock eyes, you know what will happen, and I think we can all agree that putting your currently well-trained magic in flux before you get your wand is not a good idea.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Okay, Mum. I understand, and I’ll do my best to not let it happen.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>James cut in before Lily could ask for something it would be dangerous to receive. “Thank you, Harry. We won’t make you Promise, because if something happened and you were forced to lock eyes it could be harmful to you.” Lily nodded, appreciative that James had stopped her from making that mistake. “But I will ask for a five inch write-up on the reasons in favor of avoiding it, so that I know you understand and take our request seriously.” James’ expression was steady and unwavering but didn’t cross into stern.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry stuck his bottom lip out slightly, but sighed and gave his agreement. James ruffled his hair and pulled Connor off his mother’s lap and up onto the couch with him and Harry. The three hugged for a moment before James’ playful fingers dug into the boys’ sides, starting a tickle war. Lily smiled at the scene and flicked her wand, making their abandoned mugs refill with Remus’ s steaming cocoa recipe. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Lily settled in to wait for the boys to finish their raucous tickle fight.  She knew it was just their way of letting off steam after the rather tense conversation. She wanted to ask Harry and Connor about what they’d learned while they had been off in the library researching. Her sons had been holding back, and Lily was eager for them to let it all free now that everyone was on the same page.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Tom Riddle gets blindsided by Bring Your Child to Work Day---OR---Harry accompanies his father to a Wizengamot meeting and gets his first look at Lord Slytherin.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you so much to everyone who has left kudos and comments on this fic! It is so motivating to know people like this story, and I hope you enjoy this update. My updates may come a bit slower now that real-life work is picking up again, but I still hope to put out chapters at least twice a month. </p>
<p>As always, thanks to my wonderful beta SolAnise for putting in work with me on this update. We spent quite a bit of time making sure this chapter was exactly what I'd envisioned it being, and I'm incredibly grateful for her taking the time to talk it through with me.</p>
<p>I hope everyone has a wonderful and safe winter holiday season, no matter what you celebrate or if it's summer for you. Thanks for reading!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Ch. 4</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tom Riddle could not believe this was his life. He had hated having to suffer fools since he was a child, but he had made do since he didn’t have the ability to do anything about his circumstances in the orphanage. Not until Hogwarts, where he then had to suffer the biggest fool of all in Dumbledore. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>And now, a man grown and with autonomy aplenty, here Tom was, still working alongside bumbling idiots who couldn’t put together a well-phrased bill or a thought-out plan without him holding their bloody hands through it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And to make things worse, it was Bring Your Child to Work Day at the Ministry, and Wizengamot members were somehow included, despite being an entirely <em>separate</em> entity. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Yes, department heads held seats, and the Minister of Magic and her staff were in attendance, but the rest of the body was independent of the Ministry per the checks and balances put into place centuries ago. Despite this fact, snotty noses and high-pitched voices were running rampant around him, making an ache settle under his temples before they’d even entered the chamber. </p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>Take up your Lordship</em>, they said. <em>It’ll be wonderful</em>, they said. Bunch of inbred liars.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He could hear Lucius’ son whining over the low din of the other members. “Father, when will the doors open, we’ve been standing out here for ages. Don’t they know they’re keeping us waiting?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Honestly, the audacity of this youngest generation. Salazar. Tom grimaced, resisting the urge to sigh.  He sounded so . . . old. He tamped down the mix of frustration and anxiety that always sprung up when he thought of his age. Or when one of his old classmates stared a little too long at his youthful features, the rich chocolate of his hair unblemished with grey, the tautness of his skin, the strength in his muscles that hadn’t faded or diminished. Tom had been so vain in his youth, and now his reflection was a reminder that beauty can be unbearably lonely. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>When their Traditions Professor lectured that Lady Fate’s gifts come at a cost, he was right. Professor Manderly had been truthful about everything else in that class, but Tom had doubted that the wonders of this new world could be tempered by anything. Then he’d grown up, listened to the undercurrents of prejudice and the resulting anti-traditionalist murmurings of the muggleborns.  He saw Professor Dumbledore push to cast a pallor on this shimmering society that had accepted an angry, lonely orphan and given him guidance, a firm hand, a set of rules to follow and a gift of a soulmate to hold out in front of him, a perpetual carrot encouraging him to <em>deserve</em>. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>So Tom Riddle had made every choice since the age of eleven, (or twelve really, it took the first term at Hogwarts to settle in and realize the power-plays at the orphanage would earn him nothing in an ancient castle that had seen boys just like him before, many times over even.) with the thought of his soulmate in mind. So, when Tom had turned twenty-one and still hadn’t found his soulmate, he had begun to despair. By the time he reached thirty and still looked exactly as he had on his twenty-fifth birthday, Tom had already poured through the books he and his friend’s libraries had to offer, questioning old Professor Manderly and even penning Professor Slughorn in his restrained panic.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He had found the long-sought reference in a recent publication on soul magic written by Fiora DeGuida in Transfiguration Monthly of all places. Upon reading the single sentence she had written on the Frozen Soulmate Phenomenon, he had torn through the woman’s reference list, searching for each and every book she had used to craft the rather well-written article. He had finally found the answer in an old tome from Abraxas’ family library.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>One rare occurrence is that of the Frozen Soulmate. The mark of a rather unlucky, or lucky, depending on your perspective, wix who is born more than a full majority-- or seventeen years-- prior to their destined soulmate. Such a pair happens once every handful of generations, and often marks a joining of intense power. The duo is typically a force for change, either extraordinary or infamous, in their community as Magic, Fate and Destiny have agreed to unite such separate souls. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>In such cases, the elder-born soulmate will receive the gift (or curse) from the trio of deities, a frozen visage. He or she will remain static in body at the age of twenty-five to wait for their soulmate to catch up to their age. While some may whisper of immortality, that is not what the gift bestows. Any man or woman can still die, but the Frozen Soulmate will not perish by natural means while waiting for their soulmate. Destiny can be cruel, but she would never go so far.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>The Frozen Soulmate will not age a day beyond twenty-five until the younger-born soulmate attains a matching age. On the younger-born’s twenty-fifth birthday, both soulmates will resume aging naturally, even if they have yet to meet (which would be an event even rarer than the original phenomenon).</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>There are some who believe that the Frozen Soulmate is born so early out of a need for them to learn, grow or temper prior to their future partner’s arrival, as if the elder were an extreme to be tamed. However, a similar argument could be made for the younger of the pair, being the type of soul to need an anchoring, a grounding or a reason to reach for greater than the norm to which they may otherwise aspire.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>While the Frozen years are without doubt a burden to bear, there has never been a case of the elder-born soulmate Rejecting their partner. It seems anyone who has undergone the waiting is aware of the gift they will receive for their troubles. As we all know, Lady Magic desires balance above all else.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And now, here he was, sixty-four with the face of his twenty-five year old self, trying to apply those years of patience to the enraging chaos around him. Abraxas may be one of his closest friends, but by Merlin, if that grandson of his reaches the canine decibel <em>one</em> <em>more time, </em>Tom couldn’t be held responsible for what would happen next. Breathe, Tom. Find something else to distract you.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>At least Frank Longbottom’s son wasn’t noisy per se, although he was drawing attention as he stumbled into or over every possible surface with a lip or uneven edge.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Edgar Bones’ eldest son was chatting with Lord Fawcett’s daughter. Yes, he’d heard that pair had matching marks. Fawcett had let slip that he and Lord Bones were in talks to draw up a betrothal agreement. At fifteen. The murmurs that followed that bit of news had briefly united many members on opposing sides be they Dark, Neutral or Light. Fifteen was much too young for their magic to be ready for a betrothal, especially a magically-binding contract drawn up by a solicitor. Honestly, even Dumbledore wouldn’t advocate for such a thing. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tom allowed his eyes to close, gifting himself a brief respite from the chaos of the crowds milling around the marble holding chamber. His left hand found its way to the bridge of his nose, rubbing small circles into the skin as if he could block out the chatter surrounding him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Even with his eyes shut, the feeling of someone’s gaze upon him had his magic prickling at the back of his neck.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tom was not near calm enough to respond to another gawker. Not now. He couldn’t actually contain a wince as he realized it was probably someone or another’s child, confused at how such a young man sat on the Wizengamot or had a silk black faction leader strip running down the sides of his plum robes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He remained smug in the knowledge that his subtle black accent suited the rich purple of the ‘Gamot robes much better than the watery grey or the blinding white of Ogden’s or McKinnon’s vestments. The reminder of that small victory readied him to open his eyes and seek out the rude little urchin (<em>child, Tom, just a child</em>) still making his magic tingle. Tom’s magic had been alerting him to prolonged stares since he was eight, and this gawker was more persistent than most.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A subtle shift in his weight and a roving gaze that could be searching for anyone finally found his observer. Tom had been correct, it was a child, Lord Potter’s eldest if he were to guess. The boy’s windswept hair made him look as if he had flown here to accompany his father, but this was the third generation of Potter hair (Heir, his mind couldn’t help but add) he’d been witness to, so he knew full well that the child probably always looked as such. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The rather slight child was standing on his own. Where was James Pott—<em>ah, there</em>, chatting with Lord Black. He should have guessed. That Lords Potter and Black would be near each other was one assumption that would make mules of no one. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tom’s eyes circled back to the Potter child. The boy had shifted his gaze and maintained a rather relaxed and politely curious posture. Tom was almost impressed, while he himself had learned the same trick by the young Potter’s age, the boy still stood in stark contrast to his many raucous peers. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>If Tom had their generation correct in his mind, this Potter, Harrison he believed, would be attending in the same year group as the Malfoy, Greengrass and Longbottom Heirs along with one of the younger Bones daughters. He was probably forgetting a few other secondary heirs or heiresses but, having four primary Heirs in the same year group would make theirs a class to watch by the time OWLs rolled around. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The doors to the Wizengamot chamber were soon to open, and Tom had a message to send to young Potter. Tom began to angle his shoulders towards the next room, waiting for the moment when his magic would alert him to the return of that annoyingly persistent gaze.  <em>Ah, there it was</em>. Tom twisted back to lock eyes with the inquisitive young wizard.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He gave the boy credit, little Harrison’s eyes only widened slightly when he realized he had been caught staring by none other than Lord Slytherin.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tom was sure the boy knew who he was, Slytherin was a rather famous title to hold. Not to mention, Tom proposed plenty of legislation that was not in contradiction but occasional opposition to that of his father and godfather. He respected both Lords greatly. Neither sat in Dumbledore’s pocket of sycophantic puppets, and both had been raised and continued to vote along staunchly Neutral lines, occasionally straying into Dark or Light territory depending on the law being discussed. He could respect their competence if not their every policy proposal, and he guessed or rather hoped that both men felt the same about him. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tom sent young Harrison a slight raise of his eyebrows and just the hint of an easy-to-miss smirk, communicating <em>You’ve been caught, and I’ll remember it</em>. The boy’s face smoothed over before a mischievous smile stole across his face. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>And then, as the door’s open and the crush of bodies went to proceed through for the session, Tom had to raise his hand to disguise the laugh he was working to choke back down.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harrison Potter was walking off to join his father with a huge shite-eating grin on his face after <b>winking</b> at the Lord who’d caught him staring at a Ministry function.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The audacity, indeed. Well met, Harry Potter.</p>
<p>_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>Now that</em>, Harry could admit to himself, <em>was probably not my best idea</em>. He had no doubt that if he told his dad or Uncle Padfoot he had just <b>winked</b> at the leader of the Dark faction they would both start laughing and then cut themselves off when they remembered exactly who Lord Slytherin was to Harry.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Regardless of the potential amusement he could offer the pair before they sat down for what was likely to be a rather mundane Wizengamot meeting, Harry had other things to worry about, the least of which was the  potentially terrible impression he had just made on his soulmate. Merlin. Harry stifled the groan that wanted to escape as what he had just done crashed over him. </p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>And I thought Gryffindor was a sure miss. </em>At least Connor would get a kick out of this, after he swore his brother to secrecy about the whole endeavor. Not that he really even needed to force his brother into such a promise. While both boys were incredibly close with their parents, heck with Padfoot and Moony as well, there were some things that Connor and Harry knew would stay between them. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Connor had mentioned once when he had crawled into Harry’s bed after a nightmare about his soulmate rejecting him, in a soft voice that made Harry melt even as he tried to hide how it affected him, that he felt bad for Mum. Harry remembered asking why, and his little brother had pushed his cold nose into the crease between Harry’s shoulder and chest. Harry had born the chill as Connor snuggled closer, relaxing in Harry’s arms.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, when she was my age Mum must have had her antlers by now. She’d only known the basics that Uncle Sev had taught her,” Connor had whispered.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah,” Harry said slowly, not sure where Connor was going with this.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Har, you and I know all about magic and soulmates and stuff,” he sniffled. “And I’m still scared. Really scared. The only reason I’m not scared <em>all the time </em>is, well, is because I have you.” Harry’s heart felt like it might burst in his chest. His arms tightened around his little brother without conscious thought, and he pressed a soft kiss to the crown of Connor’s head, amidst the messy hair they had in common.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But Connor wasn’t done. “Mum didn’t have a <em>you</em>, Harry. She had Aunt Petunia.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry froze. Connor was right, so right. Harry could admit that watching a similarly inclined soulmark appear on his brother’s skin last year had made something in his chest loosen, some stress he hadn’t realized he’d been carrying since his parents first sat him down.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>No wonder his mum had fought against the new decisiveness of it all when she got to school and met his dad. Thinking about his mother’s secret hurts and hidden worries, Harry nudged his brother, making Connor pull back and look Harry in the eyes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re right, Bug. We,” Harry emphasized, “both of us, are very lucky to have each other. So very lucky. And I want you to know that you can always tell me anything. You never have to keep your feelings to yourself. You can be afraid, nervous, excited. Be anything you want. But I don’t want you to ever feel <em>alone</em>, because you never will be. Understand?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Connor’s hazel eyes gazed up at his big brother with adoration, and Harry knew he didn’t ever want to do anything to make his little brother stop looking at him like that.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, Har. I understand.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Since that night, Harry and his brother had sworn a pact. They’d tell each other anything and everything, especially about their soulmates. They had their privacy, mostly because there was no need to pry when your brother offered up most information freely. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>And when he got back home after today’s meeting, Connor would be ribbing him about winking at a man fifty-four years older than him. The jokes wouldn’t stop for <em>decades</em>. Harry just knew it. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He also knew he’d be getting an earful from his brother over the fact that he had gotten caught staring and managed to do the one thing he’d told his family he would avoid: locking eyes with his soulmate.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But he had, and now Harry had to sit here in the Wizengamot meeting, feigning attentiveness while he tried to sort out his roiling magic. A real pity since Harry had been interested in a few of the bills up for discussion today, but needs must.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It had barely been ten minutes since he and Lord Slytherin had locked eyes. The members of the Wizengamot and their various progeny hadn’t even settled into their assigned seats yet, but Harry could already feel a major difference in his magic. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Closing his eyes, Harry dove down into his core and quietly gasped. This was why his mother had broken down years ago, begging him not to rush into finding his soulmate. His magic was swirling around inside him like an inferno, desperate to escape an active volcano and ready to erupt at any second.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>If Harry hadn’t spent every day of the last two years working to have a better grasp on his inner magic, he probably would have had a violent explosion of accidental magic in the chamber. Being as it was, he still had to clamp down on the magic that wanted to leak out his fingertips and toes. There was just so much, and it had no place to go.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>When his parents had described it to Harry, they never told him it would be this intense. He already knew he’d be spending the next year dedicating hours each day to working with his magic. Hopefully, he’d have a handle on it before heading off to Hogwarts. Harry would rope Connor into it as well, giving him a better cover. If he was careful, he could keep the change in his magic from his parents, but Connor was already the best Potter at sensing other people’s magic at <em>eight</em>. Not that Harry would have kept it from him anyway, but with his brother’s talent, Harry couldn’t have withheld such information had he wanted to do so.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry could vaguely hear Chief Warlock Dumbledore calling the meeting to order and someone on the Minister’s staff reading through the itinerary of today’s meeting as well as the minutes from the previous session. Harry tuned half an ear into the discussion, knowing he’d have to give the appearance of interest when it came to the werewolf addendum being debated today. He’d had plenty of animated conversations about the topic with his dad and godfather, and both the Black and Potter votes would be supporting the proposed changes. It shouldn’t ruffle any feathers, considering it was a well-known fact that Lord Black’s soulmate was a Were and it was an equally well-known fact that Lord Potter was the witness at their bonding. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Still, there would probably be some grumbling at crucial Neutral votes dipping into supporting Dark-labeled policy. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry thought those distinctions were ridiculous, but nobody really asked a ten-year old their political views.  He could admit that his opinion stemmed from the old books he’d been borrowing from Padfoot the past few years. When he had realized the likely identity of his soulmate, Harry had decided that he needed to understand why the man supported the politics he did. Even if they didn’t seal their bond in the future, Harry and Tom would be Lords Potter and Slytherin, so it would be important to recognize the undercurrents running through the court regardless.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Because of that reality, Harry and his brother had read everything about the Wizengamot they could get their hands on. In an old Black Family Diary the pair had found references to the political parties from the 20s, 30s and 40s. Factions in the Wizengamot hadn’t shifted to Dark, Neutral and Light until the early 50s when the aftermath of WWII and Grindelwald’s War had swept through Wizarding Britain like a storm. Prior to that time, the ‘Gamot had split into Traditionalist, Conservative and Progressive parties rather than the current alignments.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Both Harry and Connor had noticed that their dad and Uncle Padfoot’s voting records didn’t follow a fully Neutral pattern, but when compared to the old parties, aligned with the idea of a slightly progressive Traditionalist. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The boys had been raised to respect and honor the wixen culture. Both their Dad and their Mum were adamant on the subject, but Lily Evans Potter had also made sure to educate her family on the muggle world. She felt, and her family agreed, that it was important to be able to blend  into muggle society when the time called for it, and that muggles had created many incredible inventions that deserved respect. Because of their parents’ varied backgrounds, Connor and Harry agreed with their Dad’s voting record. Respecting and <em>teaching</em> wizarding traditions, as well as using magic to adapt certain muggle ideas, were the best methods to keep their society vibrant and thriving.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry had looked into Lord Slytherin’s, aka Tom Riddle’s, voting record as well. The man definitely veered toward the conservative Traditionalist demarcation. Harry wouldn’t say he truly disagreed with any of Tom’s choices, but he did find some of the man’s proposed legislature to be a touch, well, extreme. Fortunately, during bill editing and floor discussion, Tom’s more radical proposals were tempered before being enacted into law. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry remembered one bill, the Magical Child Relocation Act, which had made his chest twinge in a dull ache. His Aunt may be, well, terrible, but his grams and gramps were the best, full of bear hugs and hair ruffles and love. Harry couldn’t imagine his life without them nor what his mum would have been like, taken from her home at the first sign of accidental magic and fostered out to a wizarding family. He could understand the idea behind it all, but magic was wondrous! How could anyone reasonable (<b>cough</b> Aunt Petunia <b>cough)</b> dislike it? Plus, no one could make a better Victoria Sponge than his grams. No one. Not even his Uncle Moony. That settled it for Harry.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>So now, Harry sat, half listening to the general chatter about a research proposal for magical technology. He’d already heard his mum give her two sickles about this bill at the dinner table last week, so he knew how his dad would be voting. Instead of hearing whether or not everyone was suddenly deciding to be reasonable—unlikely—Harry was attempting to work one strand of his pulsing magic into a calmer state. He had separated a ribbon that was traveling out towards his right hand and had frozen it, trusting his body to contain the rest while he worked. Harry likened calming his magic to re-syncing it to his natural rhythm. He took a measured breath in and on his exhale sent his awareness down into the strand, urging it to mimic the slow timing of his breaths.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It took Harry over five minutes to convince the single strand to relax and match his true inner tempo. He let a breath out in slight relief but was then struck by the idea of just how much of his magic still needed to be calmed. Not mastered or understood or merged. Calmed. Harry barely had control over the sudden influx of power bubbling inside him at the moment.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He felt a weight settle onto his shoulders as the consequences of his lapse in strictness sank in. He had done exactly what his parents had asked him to avoid doing, and now he was going to have to work for the next ten months to regain even a little of the excellent control he’d possessed a month and a half ago when he and Connor had shown their parents how they could push their magics outward in the parlor. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Not to mention, his mother was going to <em>kill</em> him when she found out, which she eventually would no matter how long he tried to hide it. Harry also knew he’d be writing multiple feet for his father on how his magic had changed and the best methods to control and relearn it once his mistake was uncovered. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry had not meant to meet Tom’s eyes. He really hadn’t, but he’d been overconfident. He hadn’t expected to attract Tom’s notice, he was just one kid among dozens.  When his parents had said his magic would change, Harry had underestimated just what kind of upheaval it’d bring. The empathy he’d felt for his mother at eight was nothing in comparison to the realization that she had been forced to deal with this <em>chaos</em> that Harry felt surging through his veins, and she hadn’t even known why her magic was basically screaming at her.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Even for a semi-prepared Harry, the sensation was disheartening. The Potter Heir had prided himself on his particularly close relationship with his inner magic over the past few years. It was one of the few things he excelled in other than flying. Still, now was not the time to slump under this new burden. Harry had brought it on himself, albeit accidentally, and the Wizengamot chamber was the last place to lose control of his magic or of his image. This was the first time he’d visited the ministry with his dad while acting as the Potter Heir Assumptive and Harry didn’t want to disappoint.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He needed to pay a little more attention to the discussion on the floor. Today’s trip was part of House training, and his father expected more out of Harry than Connor thanks to his status as Heir Assumptive. He’d need detailed notes in order to turn in a summary of today’s discussion as well as to complete his essay on Noted Undercurrents of the Discussion and What They Indicate for House Potter’s Position. Yeah, Harry didn’t blame Connor for staying home and avoiding the assignment one bit after hearing his essay topic.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry rubbed his right thumb over the fingertips of the same hand. He smoothed slow circles over the pads, working to settle the magic sparking there so he could hold his quill without setting it aflame or something else eye-catching. Harry timed four circles to every inhale, four to each exhale and felt the pins and needles sensation recede after a minute or so.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry had already made preliminary notes on the earlier werewolf addendum and the current technology bill prior to coming, so he didn’t have to worry about the introductions to the WizTech Integration Act sponsors-- a good thing considering Harry had been rather preoccupied. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He knew the bill had been sponsored by one of House Potter’s allies, Lord Prewitt. Lords Potter, Black and McAllister had edited the proposition thereby giving it their temporary stamp of approval prior to floor discussion. Harry knew that Lord Prewitt and his siblings had a squib uncle who lived in the muggle world, but the twins had, working with their sister’s husband, begun a reconciliation with the man after the eldest Weasley child’s birth. The Prewitt’s had brought their estranged uncle back into the House and taken the time to educate their families about the non-magical world.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Having then been exposed to the advances the muggles had brought to the non-magical world without the use of spells or witchcraft, Heir Assumptive Fabien, Heir Presumptive Gideon and Vassal Arthur Weasley had petitioned the Wizengamot to make a study of the muggle technology they’d seen and the possibilities of mimicking the results with magic.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>After three years, the trio had made a presentation of their findings to the Wizengamot back in June and had since drafted legislation about protocols for research and experimentation on creating muggle-inspired advances in the magical world. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dad had made him and Connor read through the whole document that the Prewitts and Weasleys had written up as part of House training. As Harry tapped the toes of his left foot in double time with his breathing to try and sync another access point of his magic, he began to prepare places in his notes for assenting and dissenting opinions on the bill. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>This proposal was a perfect example of how many current Lords voted based on the former system of divisions rather than the Light/Dark spectrum. The technology bill was not a matter of light magic versus dark magic but rather a question of conservatism and progressivism. A progressive traditionalist like Harry’s father would be in favor of following a muggle model as long as it were adapted to a magical environment and implementations. Whereas Harry expected that a conservative traditionalist like Lord Slytherin would be displeased at the idea of muggle influence in most if not all forms. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was Lord Malfoy who led the dissenting argument, but out of the corner of his eye Harry could see Lord Slytherin nodding along with some of Malfoy’s better-phrased points. Once again, Harry was letting his soulmate distract him. His magic buzzed with a contradictory joyful anger. Joy at being so near his soulmate, anger at being still so far despite their lack of physical distance. The anger was two-fold. His magic was not only angry at not being able to bond with Tom’s but also angry that it was the only one awakened, that there was no access to a feedback loop. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry repeated his fingertip exercise with his non-quill hand while cataloguing Lord Slytherin’s features. His face was aristocratic, reminding him of Uncle Padfoot or Regulus, all sharp angles and straight lines. The man kept himself well-groomed, his hair arranged with care but still displaying the slight wave and curl of his locks. Harry ran a hand over his own head, envious of how respectable his soulmate could make his hair look. Tom kept excellent posture, but didn’t present the picture of a statue. His long fingers tapped a rhythm onto the armrest of his chair. Harry liked the idea that, even when focused on the task in front of him, Tom had too much energy--or too much charge in his magic--to keep still.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Another part of Harry worried that maybe Tom’s fingers were attempting to re-tune his magic the same way Harry was, but he shook off that idea and the accompanying burst of fear as fast as it had arrived.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Lord Slytherin didn’t know. He couldn’t. Harry was the only one whose magic had changed today, and he could feel that too. It was why Harry’s magic had gone haywire. While locking eyes with his soulmate would have always caused some level of chaos in Harry’s magic, what had happened today was beyond the normal scope. Typically, when someone recognizes their soulmate, they admit their suspicions to their destined. Because of the admittance, the other person of the pair also believes in the possibility, and when the pair next locks eyes the change in their magic confirms their thoughts. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry and Tom were a different case. Harry was already positive that Tom was his soulmate, and Tom had not a single suspicion that the young Potter was his own match. Because of this, Harry’s magic changed to reflect the first stage of an open bond that hadn’t actually come into existence. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Such a thing didn’t seem important on the surface, but it meant that there wasn’t any place for Harry’s extra magic to go. The change in magic was meant to prepare a wix for the new pathways that open up to compliment and implement a bond. Ideally, the newly-revealed pair worked together to manage their own magic and learn how to send and receive magic along the bond. Then, by the time a pair completed and sealed the bond, they would then already have learned the preliminary steps to sending emotions, supplementing magic and even sharing thoughts if the pair had enough natural power to do so.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Even though Lily had fought the opening bond, James had told his sons that he had been able to siphon a little of her raging magic in those first few years. While James hadn’t pushed any of his own magic down the bond until after Lily had learned to control her own, even receiving and pulling magic from the other side of the bond had helped James’ magic settle since he was exercising the new pathways. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry couldn’t give <b>or</b> receive magic down the bond. Harry was on his own in managing these changes. His magic and body were developing pathways that dead ended, so Harry’s magic was trapped in a continuous feedback loop.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry stopped all his motions as he realized the situation for what it was. If he were any less disciplined he would have dropped a curse word in the middle of the Wizengamot chamber (and would have then owed his dad another 14 inches of parchment on decorum, gross). </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It would be impossible for Harry to bring his magic fully under his control before getting to Hogwarts. He began to tremble as it sunk in. Harry would be lucky to have his magic <em>mostly</em> under his control by the beginning of his third year. With nowhere for his magic to go and no exchange between bodies to be had, Harry was going to have to work his magic almost non-stop to avoid daily instances of accidental magic. When he got a wand next summer he was going to have to cast every single day or risk overpowering a spell at the wrong time. As good with his magic as Harry was, he didn’t know if he could do this. </p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>What have I done? What am I going to do? Merling, what have I don</em>— The continuous drumming of Lord Slytherin’s fingers brought him back from the brink of a panic attack. His eyes had locked onto the rhythmic motions of his soulmate’s fingers, and Harry automatically began matching his heartbeat to the steady pat-pat-pat. He could sense his magic vibrating along the shell of his ear, under his eyelids. Harry felt as if his magic was working for him, with him, and the shuddering relief that ran through him at the thought that not everything would be a fight calmed him down enough to stave off hyperventilation and a panic attack.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry had kept his body tense as a bow string, and he forced himself to relax as his heartbeat slowed to match the thrum of Tom’s fingers. For the sake of his father, his soulmate and Harry’s own future reputation, he had to keep himself together. Harry refused to embarrass any of them today.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry filled his lungs with another deep breath and prepared to refocus on his notes. Before he could put his quill back to parchment, however, Tom’s navy blue eyes met Harry’s own gaze once again. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry averted his eyes quickly, forcing his concentration on the floor discussion. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>No more glances toward Tom. No more. Not only is it rude, but you have to get through the rest of this session without burning holes in your clothes or lighting your quill on fire, and you can’t do that if you keep thinking about Tom. Stop it, Harry. Technology Bill. Technology Bill. Technology Bill.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He picked up his quill and returned to jotting down the responses to the proposal. It looked like the bill would pass with a larger margin than Harry and his dad had predicted in their prep session. Great! A wizarding television would be very welcome in their house, and Harry was of the opinion that the wizarding world needed more job options for creatively-minded wixen. Actors and actresses were a small number among their society with the only roles being in the high-end productions produced by a few traditionalist clubs. Plus, the research needed to even develop such products would employ hundreds if not thousands of graduates and returning first-generation wix to come. It seems the possible industry and economy had been the selling point around which Lord Prewitt had focused his pitch, and he had succeeded because of it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry ended that section of his notes with a flourish of his quill. He had started drumming the fingers of his left hand on his knee to sync the magic in both spots. <em>Just like To—No, Harry you were focusing so well</em>. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Onto the next bill.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And the next. And the next. And the next. The following two hours saw Harry furiously scribbling down the proposed legislature and the varied reactions from the rest of the chamber. He refused to grant himself another glance at Lord Slytherin, but when he was massaging his cramped hand between discussions, Harry reread his recent notes and winced.  Any time he had taken notes on what his soulmate had said, Harry had pushed the nib of his quill into the parchment so hard he left divots.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Just because Harry had refused to observe Tom for the rest of the session didn’t mean he had kept his eyes strictly to his parchment. He’d taken the chance to observe his peers during both the discussion and the breaks. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry was not the type to think himself above others on principle (he’d leave that to children like Octavian Nott who had been so condescending at the last garden party their mother had made them attend that Connor had set the boys robe hems on fire with his anger-induced accidental magic.) Still, after what he’d seen from the other underage Heirs today, Harry felt justified in his belief he was representing House Potter in the best possible light at this meeting. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Heir Malfoy had squirmed in his chair nonstop until Lord Malfoy had gripped his son’s shoulder tight enough for the blond-haired boy to squeal “Father!”, completely missing the point of the silent rebuke his Lord had intended to give him. The Fawcett and Bones Heirs his father had grumbled about a few months back had exchanged moon eyes during the entire four hours, and the Flint Heir had fallen asleep after scowling throughout the presentation of Lord Prewitt’s technology bill. Harry scoffed at the thought. <em>As if he wouldn’t appreciate a wizarding television.  Not that he’s ever seen one to know what he’s missing out on</em>. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>One of the only other kids attending today who Harry noticed had met his dad and grandad’s standards of public behavior for Heirs had been Neville. His godbrother hadn’t taken notes like Harry had, but the Longbottom Heir had sat at attention with good posture and had clearly kept his mind on the matters being discussed. Heiress Greengrass had also had her mind focused on the meeting. Harry had seen her asking her father various questions when appropriate as well as answering some of her younger sister Astoria’s questions as well. Harry’s lips had turned up in a slight smile at the sight, knowing he and Connor would have painted a similar picture to an observer if his brother had accompanied them today.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Like Neville and the Heiresses Greengrass, Harry had remained focused on his task, and now he’d be heading home with plenty of information about the Import Agreement of 1990, the Updated Greenhouse Regulations for Potions Ingredients, the Werewolf Addendum to the Sentient Magical Beings Bill of 1743 and the WizTech Integration Act. They had also covered the preliminary trade agreement with both Belgium and India that Minister Bagnold had brought to the floor for approval.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Throughout his notetaking, Harry had not once stopped drumming the fingers of his left hand. Whether on his knee, his chest or the arm of his chair, Harry had kept the rhythm going, and his magic had bounced along in time to the steady thrum. It was still crackling under his skin, but Harry had realized trying to fully relax it, especially now, would get him nowhere. However, syncing to a regulated rhythm even if it were faster than his preferred inner tempo, had worked well enough to allow Harry to bring most of his focus back to the task at hand.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The tap-tap-tapping had only stopped when the session was called to a close. Harry packed up his parchment and gave it to his dad, who slipped Harry’s notes into his robes alongside his own observations from today’s meeting. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“How’re you doing, sport?” Lord Potter asked. His smile was light as he teased Harry. “Hand cramping up? Sore from the chair? Just think, you’ll get to look forward to doing this once a month one day when you’re Lord Potter.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ha ha, very funny Dad.” Harry rolled his eyes. “It was fine, even interesting at times. Still, you’re not allowed to stop being Lord Potter for a very long time.” He slipped his hand into his father’s larger one. “I’ll be ready to do my duty to our House, but I’ll never be ready to be Lord Potter if it means you won’t be here to see it.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>His dad’s smile grew soft and his hazel eyes crinkled at the corner while he looked at Harry with fondness. “Death isn’t the only way to pass on a Lordship, Har. You know that.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I know, it’s just—nevermind. It’s nothing. All the talk about my soulmate has made me feel a bit out of sorts I guess.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>James exchanged a glance with Sirius who had been trailing behind the father son duo as they all walked out of the chamber. Padfoot had been ready to break in with his own joke, but now he released his wand from its holster and cast a small privacy ward to give his best friend a moment to reassure his godson. James thanked him with a nod and then pulled Harry to the side and out of the way of the rest of the group streaming out of the meeting.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry started as his dad crouched down to be on his level. “Dad, really I’m fine.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re not fine.” James stated resolutely. He gave his son a quick once over. “You’ve been antsy for the past three weeks leading up to today, and you’ve been distracted in your lessons. Connor even mentioned that he was worried about you, and we both know Connor wouldn’t come to me and Mum before you if he wasn’t sure there was something to worry about. Now you’re fidgeting all over the place and worrying about my death and distracting Padfoot during the meeting with your finger tapping.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry’s eyes widened, and he tried to hold back a wince. He should have known his dad would be keeping one eye on him at all times today. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What’s going on, Har. Should we wait to get home so we can talk about <em>everything</em> you learned today?” His dad’s raised eyebrows and slight emphasis on everything clued him in to what his dad was thinking.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, it’d be best to talk at home.” Harry said quietly. He wanted to mumble, but Heirs didn’t mumble. At least not in public, and definitely not in front of their Lord Father and Lord Godfather.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well then,” James straightened and put his hand on Harry’s shoulder, squeezing lightly in support. “Let’s get back to the Lion’s Den, shall we? Thanks, Pads.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry turned his head to see Uncle Padfoot cancelling a ward with a quick downward slash of his wand. He hadn’t even <em>noticed</em> magic go up around them. Godric, his mage-sense was in shambles too. Harry wanted to cry. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry took a shaky breath and followed his dad and uncle towards the line of fireplaces in the ministry atrium. As their small group was passing the fountain in the center, Harry felt his magic consolidate on his left side near his ribs. He shifted to look left without thought, following the pull of his magic. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Harry!” Uncle Padfoot’s urgent whisper jolted him out of his stupor enough for Harry to realize he’d been looking towards Lord Slytherin again. Harry rubbed a hand down his side, soothing his searching magic in apology. <em>You won’t be finding what you seek for a while yet</em>. <em>Looks like we both have to learn more patience.</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sorry, Lord Black.” Harry replied. Out of the corner of his eye Harry could see Lord Slytherin suppressing a smile. Tom was much too far away to have overheard, but he had witnessed the slight rebuke over Harry’s wandering eyes. Tom didn’t have reason to be suspicious Harry was his soulmate. Lord Black’s chastisement made just as much sense if it were seen as a reminder of proper decorum.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yep, definitely time to get us all home.” Pads said decisively.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tom allowed the smile he had suppressed a minute ago to surface once Lords Potter and Black had sheparded their charge through the floo. The little Potter Heir carried himself with more confidence and restraint than his peers, but his curiosity would be his undoing if he didn’t keep it under proper regulation.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The numerous other children who had accompanied their parents had failed to give Tom a real impression. They hadn’t represented their families in a negative light, nor had they shown themselves to be a clear credit to them in the future. A couple of the Heirs who had stared at him were in that category, but they wouldn’t have been caught without his magic’s specially attuned warning just like the Potter Heir. They had been circumspect, so they got a pass. He’d note them down if it happened again in the future. His ever-the-same visage made some suspicious. Frozen Soulmate’s were an uncommon phenomenon to the point where the younger generation, hell even his own generation, hadn’t been taught about them. The last known pair of generation-separated soulmates were Constantina Meadows and Alexander Moody who bonded in the late 1890s at the late age of 30 (for Miss Meadows, Mr. Moody was technically 67 at the time despite physically appearing 30).</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tom felt the despair try to claw its way up his throat. He swallowed. <em>Here is not the place</em>. Tom empathized with the Potter and Black Lords as he too quickened his stride to the fireplaces. The ministry atrium is not the place for any type of public display, especially not the crushing misery that was creeping through him at the moment.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>With the whoosh of the fire Tom escaped the gilded marble interior of the ministry and let his mask fall away as he crossed the threshold of Slytherin Keep. His house elf Misty took his overrobe without a word, and Tom didn’t need to look at her to know she had picked up on his sorrow. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He heard the elf snap her fingers and knew a fresh pot of tea awaited him in his study. Retreating to his study after a Wizengamot meeting to write up a review of the session was routine, but the heaviness of Tom’s tread was less so.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>If there was one fact Tom wished his photographic memory would fail to remember it would be that the last British pair of Frozen Soulmates had an age difference of 37 years. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tom was 64 and still wore the body of his 25-year-old self. He was, at the very least, 39 years older than his soulmate. And that was if he noticed himself aging before his next birthday.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Seeing another crop of children walk through the Wizengamot doors was as difficult as ever, but this time they weren’t freshly 17 and of age. Tom couldn’t look at 13 year old Cedric Diggory or 15-year-old Nathanial Prewitt or Merlin forbid eight-year old Cassian Lestrange wondering if they were his soulmate and maintain his sanity. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He had his reasons for making sure not to attend gatherings where children congregated. Tom remembered the stares from Father Parish that he endured every Sunday of his childhood. The spring term of his first year Tom had pursued the fostering system with a desperation that worried his yearmates. He remembered the whispers following him down the corridors “I didn’t know the muggle world was so bad. What can Riddle be trying to avoid?” <em>Who not what</em>. Even now, over half a century later, Tom could feel the ghost of the priest’s hands roving down his chest during the exorcism Mrs. Cole insisted upon when Tom was nine, the eyes that seemed to follow him across the church. Tom was certain his magic had learned to recognize other people’s staring as a defense against <em>that man</em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>I refuse to be akin to a pedophile in any way, even if it’s just speculation.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tom’s magic crackled under his skin, and the porcelain of his teacup cracked under the strain. He sighed and slowly reeled his magic back in and under control. Tom traced his index finger up the crack, watching a thin silver needle of magic sew the unsewable back together. Despite the turmoil in his mind, a small smile slipped onto his face. All this time and magic was still a delight.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>With his cup fixed he poured himself a new spot of tea and summoned the firewhiskey from his cabinet. A splash would help him relax, hopefully.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The slight burn sliding down the back of this throat was comforting and helped settle him down. He hadn’t been prepared for Bring Your Child to Work Day, but he hadn’t indulged himself in wondering if any of them were his long-awaited match, and Tom refused to start now. He drained his cup and banished the bottle of firewhiskey back to its cabinet. He pulled out an eagle-feather quill and began to summarize the session.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Agonizing over his soulmate never got him anywhere, but there was still much work to do. Tom was determined to make their world the best it could be. His soulmate, wherever he was, deserved no less.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Resolute, Tom put quill to parchment and began to plan.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The Potters and Padfoot return from the Wizengamot meeting. BOOM. A brief look into Harry's early re-training and the effects of the beginning bond.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Lovely, <em> patient </em> readers, I am finally back with a new chapter! Re-starting both my jobs this past month has been a wonderful and necessary change, but readjusting to that schedule and the demands of a creative job made making time for personal writing a challenge. </p>
<p>A huge thank you to everyone who has read, left kudos and/or comments and subscribed. Seeing how many people are interested in this story gave me the motivation to push through my slight writer's block for this chapter. </p>
<p>As always, thanks to my wonderful beta <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/RudeHellion">RudeHellion</a> and my other Tomarry friends for their constant encouragement! I hope you all like chapter five!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was safe to say that, while Lord and Lady Potter were pleased with their Heir’s handling of his first Wizengamot meeting, Harry’s mum and dad were disappointed and distressed by their son’s predicament now that he’d locked eyes with his soulmate. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry watched his father pace across the tiles of their kitchen floor. He couldn’t bear to look at his mum. She sat at their kitchen table, elbows on the golden oak surface and head in her hands. When Uncle Pads and his dad had sat Harry down to ask what had him so riled up during the meeting, his mum had known before Harry had said a word. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Her eyes had scanned her fidgeting child, and she had stormed over to brush her fingers over Harry’s arm, testing his magic directly. Harry felt her warm, sharp chocolate-chili flake magic prod his, and shame rolled through him as he saw the anguish fill her eyes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Can’t even blame him,” his dad muttered. “It was our fault for letting him go in the first place. A ten-year-old’s curiosity knows few bounds. Our son’s doesn’t know any, and we knew that. <em>We knew that</em>.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry’s fingers drummed <em>pat-pat-pat</em> against his knee as he sat at the table opposite his mum. She had yet to look up or remove her head from her hands. His dad was still pacing back and forth across the kitchen, occasionally pausing to rest one hand on the center island as if it would hold him up as he shouldered the weight of Harry’s predicament. Pads was leaning against the wall to Harry’s left, arms crossed and face frighteningly blank. Even while at a Black Family event or in the Wizengamot chamber, Harry had never seen his uncle’s eyes lacking their mischievous glint. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Every time he thought to reassure his parents or apologize or maybe burst into the tears he’d been staving off for the past four hours, Harry refrained. He knew the situation for what it was, and each of them had something to grieve. Still, Harry couldn’t deny the slice of bitterness that made his throat feel tight when he thought of apologizing. Yes, he was sorry— but <em>he</em> was the one who would be paying for this, not them! </p>
<p> </p>
<p>His mum may feel bad for him, but this wasn’t about her or the years she’d been confused in the throes of her own spiraling magic. Harry couldn’t help but feel her misery was misplaced. If she felt so wretched for him, then shouldn’t she be comforting him? Promising things would be okay and that they’d work through this together? </p>
<p> </p>
<p>His dad could try to shoulder the blame for this all he wanted, but blame didn’t interest Harry right now. Besides, there was plenty of blame to go around. This situation was a little bit everyone’s fault. His parents’ for allowing him to be in the circumstances where he could lock eyes with his soulmate. Harry’s for choosing to take the risk and for staring at Tom when he thought the man was looking elsewhere. Tom’s for unknowingly invoking their soulmate magic when he thought he was just sending a message to an impertinent Heir. Everyone had played their part. Instead of passing blame around or wallowing in the aftermath, Harry would much rather focus on how he should proceed from here.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>As the adults collectively dealt with the idea of Harry’s messed-up magic, Harry continued the steady drum of his fingers on his knee with his left hand while turning his right hand palm up and trying to center himself. He could feel his magic pulsing in time to the beat he had set. <em>Pat-pat-pat. Pat-pat-pat.</em> The trio of pulses jumped in his wrists and danced along his molars. He could feel the heady buildup of magic in his jaw and at the base of his spine. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Magic had always felt sensory to Harry. Connor described it as tactile, something he could touch in the air around him. He said his inner magic felt like the soft sensation of someone running their fingertips over his skin. Connor was much better at describing his interactions with magic than his brother. There were too many sensations running through Harry to narrow his interactions to just one sense. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Magic was visible when he pushed it past his skin. It lingered in olfactory notes, wafting through a room after heavy usage or a holiday observance ritual. He could sometimes hear the thrum of his own magic whirring in his veins or through his hair when he was practicing alone in his room. Those were special moments for him. It felt like his magic was a shy friend who only came out to play when it knew Harry was the only one who was around to have fun with it. The soft tinkle of chimes or the <em>ssstt</em> of a breeze moving through the air like a wave made Harry warm. When his magic swelled and sighed around him, Harry felt known. He felt seen.. It was what he’d imagined having a twin would be like, a relationship somehow impossibly closer than what he already had with Connor. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>When his magic ran through him that strongly, Harry could even taste it. Wish magic was a rich tang on his tongue, thick and delicious and satisfying like mum’s shepherd's pie. Accidental magic from anger or frustration throbbed in the back of his jaw, a burning spice so hot it made him tear up. His whole mouth would tingle and the dry heat would settle in at his throat, roasting him. His exercises tasted like drinking lemonade, a sour stretch at the roof of his mouth as he pushed his magic away from him tempered by the sweetness of letting his magic loose. A small battle for each and every sip, each and every exercise.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Now, as Harry sat there dwelling on Tom and praying that the <em>pat-pat-pat</em> kept him from making his mother’s dishes shatter, his magic felt like ginger tea that had oversteeped, a zesty tingle buzzing around his mouth. His tongue bordered on numb, and his cheeks hurt from trying to stay steady. A small taste of honey slid down his throat, his magic trying to help self-soothe him even in its restless state, but Harry could feel himself locking up, tightening as the emotions his parents were projecting in their magic overwhelmed his already tenuous hold on his own distress.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The light film of golden magic Harry had been trying to work with over his right palm dissolved back under his skin as he balled his hand into a fist, letting his nails dig crescent-shaped divots in the fleshy heel of his hand.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I didn’t intend for this to happen.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry’s quiet intonation broke through his parents’ individual musings. His mother looked up, flaming tresses lodged between her fingers and eyebrow hairs sticking every which way. Pads left his place leaning on the wall to steady James who had craned his neck awkwardly at hearing Harry’s voice, off-balancing himself when his feet continued to pace.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry saw none of it though. His eyes were locked onto his clenched fist, relishing in the pain from his nails and letting it center him. He could feel his magic boiling under his skin. Harry wasn’t sure if it was his own paranoia at work or if he was actually watching sickly golden bubbles balloon and pop along the skin of his forearm. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I thought I was being careful. I thought he was in the middle of a conversation with Lord Malfoy, so it had seemed like a good time to look him over.” No one interrupted him, especially once Sirius had put a restraining hand on James’ shoulder. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“But somehow he knew. He turned all of a sudden to intentionally meet my eyes. There was nothing I could have done other than not be there, but,” here he paused, finally looking up from the unsettling sight of his skin. Three pairs of eyes were trained on him, but he couldn’t meet any of them. The sting of ginger on the sides of his tongue spurred Harry on. “I chose to go, knowing the possibilities, and you all chose to let me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His left hand ceased it’s steady thrum, and Harry’s inhale rattled in his lungs. “What’s done is done. Rather than feeling sorry for me or,” here he turned his unseeing gaze near his mother’s direction “feeling sorry for yourself, I need you to focus on what I’m supposed to do now.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry could hear the splattering pop of the bubbles as they crawled up his arms towards his neck. His exhaustion from trying to reign himself in during the meeting, his frustration with his parents’ response now they were home, his weariness at the thought of working his magic, getting his wand, going to Hogwarts, it all caved in and choked him at once.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>James’ eyes widened as he saw Harry’s magic erupting out of his skin. He was halfway across the room by the time Pads had started throwing up wards to protect each of them in case Harry’s accidental magic got personally violent. Sirius sent a few spells straight upwards to settle around Connor’s rooms. The boy was so attuned to his brother’s magic that, without any barriers between them all, he would soon be running down to check on Harry, and that could be disastrous if Harry’s magic rioted. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Lily remained seated at the table despite the chaos erupting in her kitchen. A shaky hand covered her trembling mouth. She had felt Harry’s accusation ram into her chest and settle at her collarbones. The <em>rightness</em> of his words hollowed out her insides. She had been stuck in her own flashbacks of singed fingertips clutching at her wand in desperation or McGonagall’s stern lips pursing at her mutated tea cup. The shame that she had swallowed down all those years ago had risen back up. <em>Bad at being a witch, now bad at being a mother, </em>the bitter judgment rang in her head. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sirius’ voice cut through Lily’s inner monologue. “Lils, whatever is going on in your brain, turn it off. Harry needs us. Harry needs you. Right now.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His grey eyes locked onto hers, and she felt more than made herself rise and draw her wand. He nodded towards Harry, and Lily finally took a look at her son. Now that she was actually focused on Harry, she could see his magic vibrating, pushing out of him in arrhythmic waves. His knees were locked where he stood, but his legs were shaking. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Lily’s wrist was twisting, firing off cushioning charms to surround him as she moved behind her boy. None of them could get too close. The magic in the air was thick, angry and mournful. It was keening in the only way it knew how.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Lily remembered that night in her first year when she had wandered up to the astronomy tower after curfew. She hadn’t been able to fall asleep with her magic tumbling about across her shoulder blades and down her spine. She scratched and scratched, but all it did was raise welts and sores upon her skin. Exhausted and furious with the world and magic and that Merlin-blasted Potter boy, Lily had raged to the night sky. She hadn’t seen anything other than Orion’s belt, but, when she came back to herself as her fury waned, she had seen the devastation her magic had wrecked. Loose rubble had scattered across the floor, and she could see where whips of her fiery magic had gouged out chucks from the stone walls. She smelled ozone, chili powder and fear. It had taken her more than a handful of minutes to realize the fear was her own, of herself.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Now she watched her son’s back hunch, his eyes clenched shut and fingers curled so tightly his skin stretched white and bloodless over his knuckles. If his hair was red she would have thought she was looking in a mirror, seeing herself from two decades ago. The air began to crackle in the circle that she, James and Sirius had formed around Harry.  She could feel static clinging to her robes, and the temperature rose. James’ face was frantic with his worry for Harry. Sirius’ wand hadn’t stopped swishing, laying down more and more protections around the four of them and at the entrances and exits of the kitchen. Lily herself was flinging cushioning charms everywhere now. An explosion was imminent, she could feel it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Back when it was Lily shaking with suppressed magic, she hadn’t known how to calm herself, and she didn’t know how to calm Harry now. Lily couldn’t think of a spell to cast or the words to say to ease his emotions enough to let them touch him without setting him off. Then, on impulse, she began to sing. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Coo roo koo, cooruku, coo ru ku, coo ku</p>
<p>Coo roo koo, cooruku, coo ru ku, coo ku</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Oh hush thee my dove, oh hush thee my sweet love</p>
<p>Oh hush thee my lap wing, my dear little bird.</p>
<p>Oh, fold your wings and seek your nest now</p>
<p>The berries shine on the old rowan tree</p>
<p>The bird is home from the hills and valleys</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Coo roo koo, cooruku, coo ru ku, coo ku</p>
<p>Coo roo koo, cooruku, coo ru ku, coo ku.“ *</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was an old irish air that her mother had been fond of when she and her sister were little girls, and the words set the scene of a home where no scream was too loud, no laugh was too much. She poured her sadness and hope into her voice, letting her magic infuse her wishes into the song. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The air between her and Harry reduced to a fizzling, but the temperature shot higher and higher until he finally sobbed out a yell of, “I didn’t want this!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The room exploded.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It had been an accident, and he had been careful. Not that his parents believed him. Neither could bear to look at him. Of course he’d wanted to observe his soulmate, but Harry had never sought to meet Tom’s gaze. Tom hadn’t been looking anywhere near Harry. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry’s magic seethed as bitterness washed through him. He felt the bubbles bursting, and the residue stung as it sunk back beneath the skin of his arms. Harry stood, his abrupt movement knocking the chair to the floor. He held himself together tightly, struggling to keep his magic locked inside him. His fingernails throbbed, and he could taste coppery blood from where he had bitten into his lower lip to keep from screaming at his family.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He knew he had disappointed them. He knew he had ruined everything. Harry couldn’t even send his magic to prod his brother to let him know he was home. It was already bursting without any attempt to use it. If he let even another tendril out voluntarily, he knew things would go past some point that they shouldn’t. Instead, he tried to pull some of his magic and mold it into a ball in his chest. Every strand he mentally grabbed hold of felt like a shock that zapped down his bones all the way to his teeth. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry hated each and every piece he touched. The magic felt oily and slick, slipping out of his grasp every time he tried to corral it. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>His legs shook, and his neck grew too heavy to hold up. As he kept trying to cram more of his magic into the ball, he began to imagine iron bands wrapping around the sphere in his chest. Wrangling each piece was a fight, and he could feel a sheen of sweat bead down his neck and chest as the air around him got hotter and hotter.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>With half an ear he heard his mother’s voice, soft and sad but <em>not angry, not ashamed</em>, croon to him. Her song washed over him like a balm. His magic still fought, but the raging struggle in his veins wasn’t so fierce. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry couldn’t even breathe a sigh of relief. It remained a battle inside his chest, even with the help from his mother. He was just so <em>tired</em>. He had been fighting this fight on a lesser scale for the past four and a half hours, and he hadn’t even gotten to talk to his soulmate. If he was going to have to deal with this for the next however many years, he should have walked right up to Tom and struck up a conversation. But no, of course not. Tom was a grown man, even if he looked younger than dad. Why would he even want to talk to a ten-year old like Harry? He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t want Harry either, once he knew. Harry was a child who had lost the most special thing about him when he had lost control of his magic. Tom, his parents, his brother. No one would want him like this. Harry didn’t want <em>himself</em> like this..</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry had pictured the moment he would pick up his wand for the first time--the rise of his magic in the air, his brother’s thrilled yelp, his parents’ proud grins. He had imagined the first class at Hogwarts, getting the spell right in one period and hearing a whisper of, ‘just like your father.’ </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The loss of it all hit Harry like a hammer straight to the chest, breaking his tenuous hold on his balled up magic. With a strangled scream of, “I didn’t want this!” his eyes snapped open, and the world stopped turning for a split second. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Then it restarted, and a sharp crash lit up the Potter family’s kitchen as medium-sized bolts of lightning shot out from Harry’s fingertips. The bolts caught the hanging lamp over the table as well as the faucet of the farmhouse sink. Porcelain dishes shattered in their cupboards, and the charged bolts reflected off the various pots and pans that hung on the walls in that rustic way his mum loved. Harry’s eyes blazed as he watched scorch marks etch themselves into the walls. In his peripheral vision, Harry saw Uncle Padfoot’s wand waving as he furiously tried to cool the room down and prevent a fire from breaking out. His long hair was singed at the ends, and his arm hair had curled into ash, streaking his pale skin. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>His dad was paused in reaching out for Harry as he choked on the air around them, so hot it felt like breathing in a lungful of sand that had sat in the sun all day. One lens of his dad’s glasses had cracked, and the frames were smoking a bit. Harry could feel sparks running through his own hair, only stopped from burning him by the little bit of his magic that recognized its owner. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>His mum’s voice cracked, but still she continued her song. Her soprano cooled the space between them enough for her to wrap her arms around her son’s lightning-riddled body, pulling him to rest gently against her chest.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>As Lily cradled him to her chest, Harry began to cry. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He wept for everything he had lost today, the easy childhood he had exchanged for the next few years of uncertainty. He wept for the mess he had made for his family, for their destroyed kitchen. He wept for his body, which ached something fierce now that he was coming down from his episode. Everything hurt and he couldn’t see past the tears that kept falling. He felt his father’s large hands carding through his hair, heard his soft whisper of “It’s alright, Har. It’s alright. We’ve got you. You’re okay. We’re all okay. It’s all going to be okay,” leaving a litany for Harry to cling to. He could smell Padfoot’s cologne curling against his left side as he came to kneel with the Potters on the floor.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Things were broken, Harry was broken. But their family knew what it was to be broken.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The backdrop of his mum’s gentle lullaby allowed Uncle Padfoot’s, “We’re gonna put it all back together, Pronglet. This kitchen, your magic, all of it,” to soothe Harry’s fears in a way that normally wouldn’t have worked. Here, nestled between the three people he knew would burn down the world if Harry needed them to do so, Harry’s magic receded. The grounding scratch of his dad’s fingers on his scalp, the lavender scent of his mother’s shampoo, the weight of Padfoot’s hand resting on Harry’s leg worked together to calm him and leave him more centered than he had been since he and his dad had left for the Wizengamot chamber this morning.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His released emotions, combined with the large expenditure of his magic, made for a more comfortable inner magical state. Harry could still feel the tendrils of his magic buzzing and tumbling about under his skin, but they were contained within his mind, unruly but semi-obedient. His mother pressed a kiss into his static-y hair as she felt Harry’s shaky, relieved sigh shudder through his chest.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, looks like this next year is going to be a bit busier than we had planned, hmm?” she murmured. All three of her boys hummed their agreement.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>James pulled his hand back, and Harry felt some of the shame return as he saw his father’s red, swollen fingertips that had braved the unbearable heat of Harry’s hair. “Dad, I’m so sor--” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>A blistering finger pressed lightly against Harry’s lips. “Hey now, none of that,” James said, his voice a soft, comforting thing in the midst of their disastrous surroundings. “I know--we <em>all</em> know--that you didn’t mean for this to happen. The kitchen and the beginning of your soulbond both.” Harry’s eyes began to water as he saw the forgiveness and love plainly displayed on his dad’s face. <em>Not ashamed. Not disappointed. Just worried</em>. “We’ll just have to change your lessons a bit.” </p>
<p><br/>Padfoot’s aborted-laugh-turned-cough and mum’s snort filled the otherwise quiet room at his dad’s understatement.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“This lot,” James shook his head fondly. “So critical. Yes, well alright. We’ll have to change your lessons <em>a lot</em>. Happy now, the pair of you?” The identical nods he received from his wife and best friend made Harry giggle, and at the sound the three adults began to lose the remaining tension they had held onto in the wake of Harry’s outburst. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Padfoot nudged Lily, mumbling under his breath, “He’d better. Otherwise, with Pronglet’s fondness for lightning, your son is about to take the disastrous Potter hair to a whole new level.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The two-toned shout of “Oi!!” made Lily and Sirius howl with laughter while Harry and James sent identical frowns their way. Every time Lily and Sirius tried to stem their chuckles, one of them would look over and see the father and son’s arms crossed petulantly over their chests and sputter once again, setting the other off as well.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The laughter only paused when the foursome heard a surprised yelp of, “Godric’s pants! What happened in here?” The group turned to see Connor’s rumpled form standing in the doorway, eyes wide as he inspected the damage to their kitchen. Harry looked around, taking in what his brother was seeing with fresh eyes. Cracked cabinets, scorched walls, slivers of shattered glass covering the floors, smoking curtains and the taste of burnt trimmings coating everyone’s tongue. Connor’s face twisted up into an expression of pure disgust as he tried to dry swallow and rid himself of the charred flavor.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>One of his little hands ran through his hair as he turned towards his parents. “Mum,” Connor’s distress was audible, “Why does the room smell and taste like Padfoot’s attempts at biscuits?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>This time it was Harry and James who roared with laughter while Lily pressed her lips together tightly to prevent her own giggles at Sirius’ outraged look from escaping.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh yeah, laugh it up, Lils. Just remember that one,” he gestured off towards a still-confused Connor, “has the Potter hair monstrosity to deal with as well.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Connor’s sharp look and accompanying, “Oi!” earned him proud looks from his father and brother and rolled eyes from his mum and uncle.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>Yeah</em>, Harry thought to himself, <em>things are gonna be pretty different, but I’ll still have this</em>. As long as Harry could count on ridiculous conversations, light teasing and a willingness to purchase new kitchen appliances from his family, the next few years probably wouldn’t be as bad as he’d feared.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So, dad, remind me again why <em>I</em> need to learn occlumency?” Connor’s annoyed tone cut through Harry’s meditation like a warm knife slicing through butter.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dad’s warm tone had an edge of exasperation running through it when he reminded his youngest, “Because you said you wanted to be by Harry’s side in his new training, and it’s a useful skill I’d eventually have to teach you in a few years. So, since Harry’s starting early, you are too.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Connor only grumbled for another few seconds before settling down and diving back into his mind-clearing exercises.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry hid a smile as he exchanged a look with his dad who sent a wink and a small, smug smirk to his eldest. His little brother’s loyalty to helping Harry adapt to his new training always swayed Connor into staying focused on his lessons, even the, ‘boring, uninteresting, impossible ones.’</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry took a steadying breath and resumed his effort to let his thoughts fade away into a clear sky, perfect for lazy flying. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>His dad had been the one to suggest the sky as a focusing tool for Harry’s beginner occlumency lessons when Harry had been struggling to attune to an element enough to settle his thoughts.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Har, Har, hey it’s alright.” His dad had sent a calming pulse of his magic towards his son. The soft tingle of James’ magic settled on Harry’s shoulder, feeling weighted and satiny on his skin the way Prongs’ coat felt under his fingers.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His parents, godparents and brother had all taken to using an emotion-focused mist of their magic to offer affection to Harry when his wild magic came to the surface. It had made Harry too upset to see their raw skin or flushed faces when they tried to hug him despite the small current of electricity that ran over his skin when he lost control of his emotions.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry drummed his fingers, <em>pat-pat-pat,</em> and let the frustration bleed out of him. “Sorry, dad. I just can’t do this! I know how important it is, but everything feels so busy and jumbled in my head. I can’t picture earth without thinking about the creepy, crawling creatures that live under the dirt. Fire honestly makes my blood burn and leaves me feeling antsy, like I have to move. Water is so loud! I can’t make it quiet down, even when I picture gentle waves or a calm pool. And air makes me dizzy.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Just explaining his troubles helped Harry release the pent-up irritation enough for the sparking golden current to submerge back under his skin. His dad’s hand replaced his magic on Harry’s shoulder. “Sport, I know what you’re thinking, but you’re not failing. Occlumency is hard for people twice your age, and yes,” he said, forstalling Harry’s interruption. “I know it’s much more important for you to learn it than those 20-year olds, but I promise you’re not doing as poorly as you think.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“But I can’t settle down!” Harry’s distressed voice echoed in the parlor, and James was glad Lily had taken their youngest with her to visit Alice and Aurelia. Connor would have wanted to come comfort Harry if he’d heard his brother’s venting., and Harry needed this time to express his frustration without having to worry about setting an example for his brother.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“The fact that your problem is interacting too much with the elements rather than not being able to envision them firmly enough in your mind is remarkable, son. That’s the hardest thing when you learn occlumency really young, and you picked it up so fast.” James encouraged his son, his voice warm with unveiled pride. He ruffled Harry’s hair now that it was safe to do so. He had waited for the static to fade out, a precaution the entire family had adopted quickly after Harry’s affinity towards charged wild magic had become more than a one-off.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>James frowned at Harry’s replying pout. Harry was a slightly more serious child than Connor, but at 10 he had still wore an open, light-hearted smile on his face more often than not. The past three months since that Wizengamot meeting-- <em>still can’t believe we thought that would be a fine idea</em>-- had seen Harry’s more contemplative, solemn side replace his carefree personality the majority of the time. As Harry’s dad and his Lord Father, watching his son be forced to grow up so much faster than any of them had wanted had aged James and left his magic heavy and dense in his body.  He knew Lily also carried her grief quietly, wrapped around her like an unobtrusive scarf she wasn’t allowed to remove from her neck. A thin and flimsy thing that couldn’t shield her from the sting of Harry’s weary eyes and clenched jaw.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>As much as he worked to convince Harry that he hadn’t done anything wrong in beginning his bond, James’ magic did blame someone-- himself. The strands of Potter Family Magic plaited into James’ own power had slowed their pace, offsetting his rhythm. More than half of it was mental, James knew. If he hadn’t internalized so much responsibility for the situation, the family magic wouldn’t be rendering a small Judgement upon him, but he had and it was. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>James had whispered the truth of it to Lily late one night last month. “It feels like a penance. I need to serve it to wash away the guilt of contributing to his hurt.” Her soft lips pressed into his collarbone, a reminder of <em>I’m here, and I’m with you always</em>. “I miss his smile, Lils. The vacant one that he didn’t think about sending us to show he’s okay.” Her nose nuzzled him, rubbing up and down in silent agreement. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Now, in the daylight and wishing to rid Harry’s face of such a worn, weary expression, James suggested a tactic he’d been thinking of for his son on and off for a while now.<br/><br/>“Why don’t you think about the sky instead of air itself?” Harry’s head tilted to the side in silent contemplation, and James’s lips turned upwards of their own accord. His son’s features seemed so boyish and young when he was trying to make something click inside his head.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Let’s try something,” James prompted. “Picture yourself settled on your broom down on the ground. The smooth handle is in your grip. Your weight is on the balls of your feet, and your knees are bent, muscles coiled as you prepare to take off. Dwell in that moment you transition from standing to hovering, focus on how the broom, your magic and the air hold you aloft. Feel the wind rushing past you as you ascend. Look around at the sky, pale blue and golden from the glow of the sun or dusky grey on an overcast day. Feel the currents roll around you and notice how you adjust on your broom without thinking. Can you see it, Har?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>James watched his son’s face and felt relief slide down his throat like ice-cold water on a boiling day. Harry’s forehead had smoothed over, his eyebrows relaxing and his mouth dropping open as he saturated himself in the image in his mind. His fingers remained still on his knees, the incessant tapping he’d used as a controlling tick for his magic ceasing for once. His shoulders looked lighter, as if they’d stopped supporting the weight of the world even if just for the moment. <em>My boy is too young to be able to empathize with Atlas</em>, he thought, letting the melancholy retake him for a second.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“How does it feel, bud?<br/><br/>“It feels . . .  quiet,” Harry breathed, in awe at the realization. His eyes flew open, and he beamed at his father. “Dad! It was <em>quiet</em>!” Tears of relief spilled out onto his round cheeks, and James’ fingertips beat Harry’s to wiping them away. James didn’t want to try and say anything yet, not trusting his voice to be steady. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry had told them that the thoughts in his head had gotten so loud as to be unbearable while they were cleaning up the aftermath of Harry’s outburst in the kitchen. Everyone had taken to raising their volume when talking in the house or calling out to each other because Harry said it helped drown out the crackling in his ears and the vibrating behind his eyes, but they had all seen him wince and startle when even quiet noises around him caught him off-guard.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His son’s awe was tempered by hesitance, and James didn’t want anything to prevent Harry’s face from looking so light again. “Well done, Harry. It sounds like you’ve found your recurring meditative state.” His thumb traces Harry’s cheekbone, brushing away the last droplets of his teary relief. “Now that you’ve found the quiet once, I know you’ll be able to find it again. You did it, kiddo. You’ve reached the first marker of basic occlumency.” James smiled as he saw the pride and determination shine on Harry’s face. “This is why occlumency has been your main training the past few months, sport. I know you’ve wanted to try and restart your exercises, but without some sort of stability in your connection with your magic it’d be a futile effort. Now, when your magic is rebelling or you’re frustrated with your progress, you’ll return to the skies and that feeling of calm quiet. Eventually it’ll become so habitual you won’t have to consciously think about it, and by then you should have a true handle on your magic again.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Basic occlumency is a recentering tool.” Harry whispered, looking up at James to confirm. <em>Merlin, this kid is brilliant</em>. At his nod, Harry whooped, and James’ heart leapt. Harry was off and babbling about how he’d felt so adrift, like he was getting lost in his own magic, that the feeling of being too fast and too loud gave him awful headaches that made his whole body seem heavy and sluggish. “And, dad, now I can be light! Quiet! This is amazing!” He threw himself into James’ arms, repeating, “Thank you! I’m sorry I whined. Thank you. Sorry I doubted. Thank you thank you <em>thank you</em>.” James didn’t even have a chance to tell Harry there was nothing to thank him for, that he’d always help him without hesitation before his son had left the circle of his arms and begun jumping around the room in his joy. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The woodsy scent of Harry’s normal magic mixed with the acidic bitterness of cranberries, and Harry didn’t take a single second to wallow in the change. Instead his eyes danced, and he clapped his hands together like he’d received a long-awaited Yule present. The ends of his hair floated and curled, as pleased as the boy whose head they covered. <em>This is what he was always meant to be</em>, James thought. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry, bright-eyed and beaming, looked like a revelation.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>James saw that image of Harry from his first successful recentering superimposed over the composed child sitting on the floor next to his brother. Harry rested one hand on Connor’s knee and kept his breathing rhythmic and even, setting an example. James saw Connor’s smile at his brother’s thoughtless gesture, and silently agreed. <em>It’s good to see him like this</em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The new-found and hard-fought moments of quiet had done Harry plenty of good over the past few months. While still more serious than James and Lily liked to see, a lightness had returned to Harry’s eyes. He walked with his chin held higher, and had stopped being so afraid to touch them all. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He still had outbursts--some much worse than others--, but his magic was no longer out of control on any given day. He had thrown himself into his re-training with typical Harry stubbornness and had unwittingly dragged Connor along with him to everyone’s amusement. James knew things would hit another rough patch once Harry got his wand, but that was still a few more months down the road. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>For now, he could just sit here, awash in the feeling of the Potter Family magic that saturated the room and feel the weight drop off his shoulders as the magic filled him. It thrummed through his veins, completely in sync with James’ innate magic once more. The Potters were alright.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>*The lullaby Lily sings to Harry is called the Hebridean Lullaby, and is a real Irish lullaby I found online. I did not create this song.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I'd love to hear what you guys think of this chapter! I read (and delight over) every comment you leave, I swear. As always, thanks for reading!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The Potter Family takes their trip to Diagon for Harry's school supplies.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm back and absolutely blown away by the response to this story! Only five (now six) chapters in and there are so many people subscribed to this fic. I can't express how much I appreciate every single hit, kudos, bookmark, comment and subscription. Thank you.</p>
<p>I know it's been a hot minute (month) since the last update, so here's a longer-than-normal chapter to, hopefully, make up for it. Things have been crazy at work, and they'll continue to be insane for the next month so the next update may be a bit further off than any of us would like. </p>
<p>One of the reasons this chapter took more than a month was because I wrote 4000 words that weren't progressing the story forward. I pulled that section out and will be polishing it and uploading it as an Entwined Outtake at some point. Be on the look out for that, as it will be a part of this universe and a deeper insight into the dynamics of the extended Potter family as seen a little bit in this chapter.</p>
<p>A big thank you to my amazing beta <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/RudeHellion">RudeHellion</a>! She helped push me through my frustrations with this chapter and tackled more pages than usual in the editing process, so I'm even more grateful than usual.</p>
<p>Hope you enjoy Harry's trip to Diagon Alley!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Harry, Connor!” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The sound of his mum’s voice pulled Harry’s attention away from his reading. He glanced over his shoulder to see his mother standing in the entryway to the library and smiled at the sight. “Mum, you look lovely!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The pleased flush that suffused over her features only added to her beauty as the pink tint in her cheeks balanced out her creamy complexion and sharply-lined eyes. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oooh, you did the braids! I love those!” Connor added as he closed his book and turned around to see what his mum needed. He was right. She had plaited the hair that usually hung near the front of her face and pulled both sides back into a half-up style. The diamond hairpins that Harry and Connor (courtesy of their dad) had given her for Yule were tucked between the woven strands.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She laughed and walked over to them, reaching out to smooth a hand over Connor’s much less-tamed head of hair. “I did. I had to really doll myself up to match these stunning robes.” Lily shot a wink at Harry as she faux whispered to Connor, “Psst, I even know the designer.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Connor giggled while Harry rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t contain his grin as he responded.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Muuuumm, you’re beautiful no matter which robes you’re wearing.” It was something any good son would say, but Harry was being completely honest. His mum was the prettiest woman he knew. She looked just as good on Sunday mornings with her hair up and pancake batter smeared across one cheek as she did in full Lady Potter dress and matching intricate hairstyle. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“But I’m really glad you like them,” Harry finished, his tone soft and gratified.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Connor leaned into their mum’s side, forgetting his book completely as she removed her hand from his hair to put her arm around his shoulder. “You did well, darling.” She told Harry. “I’m proud to wear them. On that note, it’s time for the two of you to start getting ready. I can’t let you guys wait any longer or we’ll really be off our schedule.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>They both groaned for a moment, not wanting to leave their work unfinished. Then their mum’s next sentence brought back their excitement for the rest of the day.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’ve already laid out the matching sets of these robes for both of you, and your uncles should be here in half an hour or so,” Lily said with a broad grin.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry smiled. He was delighted to see his uncles and to show them the clothes he’d had a hand in choosing. He hoped Pads in particular approved of his selection. Lord Black was well-known for having impeccable taste in robes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was a Potter Family tradition that the Heirs could start adding their own style elements to the family wardrobe the summer before they went to Hogwarts. Harry had been thrilled when his parents had laid out the sample books from Twilfit and Tattings alongside the records of current styles in use in the Potter Family Wardrobe. Connor had joined them as part of his own training, so that when it was his turn in two years he would only need a refresher. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dad had been a font of endless patience that day as he had explained the reasons why Heir robes differed from non-seated Families robes, what was required of an outfit to afford its entrance into the Potter Family Wardrobe rather than just being part of their normal everyday clothing. Mum had pulled out swatch after swatch of colored fabric, showing them common combinations, which colors were typically associated with which seated Families and how you could differentiate a Family-associated shade from a similar hue. They had discussed materials, cuts, even accessories, and Harry had been allowed to give his opinions on this year’s designs. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Then had come his assignment for the day. He’d had to narrow down the options and make the primary color and style choices (pending his parents approval) on one personal set of Heir Potter robes and one set of Potter Family robes. His parents had been determined to make the somewhat daunting task fun. His dad had pulled out the first set of Heir robes that he had a hand in ordering when he had been 11, and they all laughed at how much the styles had changed in the past two decades. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“God, the 70s really were an age, weren’t they,” Lily had exclaimed, lines at the sides of her eyes crinkling in mirth. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She had then shown the boys the first set of robes she had commissioned as Lady Potter. “Godric, I was so nervous. Mum Euphemia had been talking my ear off for weeks about the latest styles, and she was insistent I order a full wardrobe all at once. I walked into the bustling shop room of Twilfit and Tattings and walked right back out again with an ‘Oops, I’m so sorry Lady Potter, I have left my books of designs back at my flat! I’ll be just a mo.’”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And boy, did I hear about that one.” Dad had shaken his head, feigning despair. Harry hadn’t fallen for it. He’d seen his dad unsuccessfully suppressing a fond smile at the memory.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Jamie, I love your mother. Dearly. But there’s no denying she is a thunderstorm of a woman, and at the time I was so daunted by the responsibilities that I was taking on as your wife, let alone as your Lady.” As his dad took his mum’s hand and pressed a kiss to her wrist, Harry had pretended to gag. He loved his parents, but they could be so obnoxiously soppy. “Having to order my entire wardrobe at once was a bit much. I could have easily ordered a few pieces and waited to see what I thought of the results before setting up a full commission,” His mum had finished after rolling her eyes at Harry’s childishness.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His dad had picked up the book of current Potter Family styles, opening it to last year’s page and presenting it to Harry. “Which is why the Potters have long held this tradition in esteem. It’s important to learn without overwhelming yourself, boys. In fashion and in everything else. Knowledge is only useful if it remains with you. Facts that float through your heads and out your eyes, never to be remembered again, are worse than having properly learned them, for you know you should recognize the answer, but it’s forever out of reach.” Harry had thought about that tidbit of wisdom a few times since, finding it to be sound so far.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“By the time you leave this study today,” his dad had continued. “You’ll have presented us with your preferences for the Heir robes you’ll wear to the final garden party this summer as well as a set of Potter Family Robes to wear to any public outing.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And Harry had. Now that exact set was pressed and ready for the Potters to don for their trip to Diagon Alley.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> “If you’d prefer to wear one of your other sets, tell me so I can change and lay out the coordinating robes for your father. Oh, and let me know if they need any refreshing charms applied before you put a different set on if that’s the way you decide.” Harry doubted he’d want to wear anything other than the newest design he’d picked out, but maybe they wouldn’t look as nice as he’d thought in the store.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Connor’s whisper of ‘Don’t you dare pick anything else. Those robes you chose are comfy, Bear,’ made Harry chuckle under his breath. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“They better be, for all the time I spent making sure Dad would agree to buy them,” Harry whispered back. Dad was notorious in their house for shucking his formal robes the instant he got behind closed doors or through a private floo, hating the rigidness of most Family robe sets. He had been willing to let Harry make the choices for these robes almost completely on his own once Harry had mentioned trying out one of the tailor’s more modern and therefore comfortable designs, despite the break from tradition.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And please hurry down once your uncles get here,” Mum called after them once they had finished putting their respective books away and started up the stairs. “You know they’d all like their own time with you before we head out.” Connor elbowed Harry’s ribs and then rubbed his first two fingers against the pad of his thumb once he’d gotten his brother’s attention. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry rolled his eyes. “As if Sev isn’t going to slip you extra pocket money as well, <em> little prince </em>.” Connor’s cheeks took on a hint of pink at the name his godfather used for his godson, and Harry grinned. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>His mum sent one last set of instructions up with them, preventing the flustered comeback that was sure to have been on the tip of Connor’s tongue. “Connor, love, check in with Harry on which set he chooses to wear so I don’t have to be the go-between for the two of you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes, mum!” They both said before storming up the next flight and out of earshot. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>They split up at the second room off the third-floor landing. “You’d better not change your mind,” Connor demanded as he walked toward his wardrobe. “The only other robes I have ready are those pale yellow ones that Mum likes, and I don’t want to hear her, ‘I told you to hang up your clothes! Look at these wrinkles!’ lecture today.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry leaned against the doorframe, taking in the mess strewn about his floor with a raised eyebrow. “You’d certainly deserve it, <em> little prince </em>.” Connor scowled at him as he pulled out his new outfit, hands smoothing the pewter acromantula silk overrobe. Steel blue embroidery winked and caught the light on the collar and cuffs. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Cut it out, Harry! He barely ever calls me that anymore,” Connor whined. Harry bit back a laugh as Connor pouted while pulling on the matching grey shirt to layer under his plum waistcoat. The rich color was the hallmark of the Potter house. “And I’m not little,” he added, fingers doing up the slippery buttons.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Alright, alright,” Harry conceded. There was no need to rile him up further before the day really started. “I’ll leave you to it. Glad you like the robes. Come to mine if you need any help with your hair, m’kay?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Connor waved him off. “Yeah, I always do. I’ll be by once I finish with the rest of these. Family robes always have too many complicated bits to put in order,” he bemoaned.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry internally agreed as he walked three doors down to his own room. Formal robes were a hassle. That was why he preferred the newer styles with no more than two pieces under the overrobe. The old fashioned robes left him feeling too compressed to move, even without the usual tight lacings that had been popular when his dad had been at Hogwarts keeping everything stiff and perfectly in place </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The creamy alabaster walls of his room welcomed him in, and Harry shut the oak door behind him. No longer in the open, he let his hold on his nervous magic loosen.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jitters of golden energy began to zing over his skin, jumping up and down his arms. It was still <em> too much </em>, but he could usually take a half hour a day to let his magic run wild over his skin. His magic had changed, but it continued to mimic its partner. Harry didn’t like to be contained, so neither did his magic.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>If he gave it a bit of free reign, the underlying tempo of his magic would slow after that thirty-minute window. It couldn’t come close to resembling the steady cadence of before-Tom, but it was something that could now be mistaken for a heartbeat, albeit a racing one. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Knowing they’d be out in public today, Harry had already taken an hour this morning to exercise his magic and set it free in the second-floor parlor they’d always used for magic practice. Still, even with his magic calmed, Harry’s nervousness had sent everything aflutter again inside his chest. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The last time he’d been out in public as Heir Potter . . . Well, it had been electric. He had spent the last two summer gatherings at home, his magic much too unstable to be around that many other wixen. Today, Diagon, would be a challenge. A test of sorts with Hogwarts on the horizon. His family was going early, it being late May. They were hoping to avoid the crush of families who made their way to the Alley at the annual release of the letters for the second through seventh years. The fewer wixen Harry had to encounter or feel brushing up against his magic, the better. All four of them were anxious enough thinking about their visit to Ollivander’s without factoring in a stampede of eager school children encroaching upon their personal space in a rush for rune-carving kits, beetle eyes, or new quidditch gloves.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry winced as he felt a sharp sting in the middle of his palm. One of the sparks crackling over his skin had zapped him as he had began to imagine setting fire to the inside of Mr. Ollivander’s shop, burning out the end of a wand that had just started to sing to him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He shook his head at himself and took a deep, calming breath. <em> Ten is too young to be a worrywart, Harry </em> . <em> At least, that’s what Pads says </em>. Letting his emotions out from behind his meditative shield didn’t need to mean being overwhelmed by his fears. He couldn’t keep everything in his head. Dad had been insistent on that point, in fact. Still, the moments he unwound, letting the barriers fall away, shouldn’t destabilize him. He needed to handle his trepidation once he let himself process it, not be overcome with doubt.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Picturing his magic wrecking Ollivander’s shop as it had their kitchen wouldn’t help anything. A shudder ran through him at the memory. He could still taste the char covering his tongue if he thought too long on that day. <em> No </em>. Today would not be a repeat of his return from the Wizengamot session. As he resolved to trust the progress he’d made, Harry’s magic cooled. It still raced over his skin but each spark lost its electric edge. It had been more than half a year, and Harry’s connection to his magic had stabilized . . . most of the time.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Deliberately, Harry distracted himself with the business of dressing. He pulled his new grey trousers out of his wardrobe and slipped them on. They went up past his waist and would zip and button in the back once he tucked in his matching undershirt. Harry’s fingertips stroked over the plum waistcoat that went on next. It had the same steel blue embroidery as the outerrobe. Delicate runes were sewn into the silk lining to regulate his temperature and encourage good posture--something he couldn’t convince his father to forego, no matter how irritating the inability to slouch may be. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The lush feeling of the fabric and the familiar richness of his house colors settled most of the remaining nerves Harry had been carrying as he dressed. Wearing the Potter livery was a responsibility, yes, but it was a comfort as well. His dad had used the Family Magic to stitch those runes in, and as Harry’s magic reached out to the familiar spellwork he felt a warm tingle at the base of his spine when the two connected. The smell of freshly-turned earth, spiced apple, clove and <em> safety </em> swelled in Harry’s room, and he extended his neck as he tried to breath as much of it in as his lungs could take.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Without thinking through the motions, Harry had slipped his arms through the openings of the waistcoat, his fingers fastening the seed-pearl buttons routinely. The wash of spells settled around him. His back straightened. The linen of his trousers merged with the underside of his waistcoat where the fabrics connected. His mouth filled with the taste of his mum’s winter cider as the magic began its work. He shrugged on the blue inner robe, crossing the ties below his navel. Once the strips of fabric were in the right position, the second set of spells activated. The ties wound around around his hips, pulling the sides as close to his body as possible and trailing down to just above his knees. He felt the ties tuck into the back of his waistcoat. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry twisted side to side, testing out the rigidity of the spells. A pleased smile lit up his face. He couldn’t shift any of his clothing with his movements, but it was much easier to breathe and move without tugging against his skin now that he didn’t have to lace anything up. He pulled on the embroidered grey outerrobe and aligned the edges with the spelled section of the inner robe. A whiff of nutmeg filled the air around him as Harry’s outerrobe snapped into place. He tried tugging on it, but the fabric refused to come loose. Just as he’d read it should in the design description.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Now if only the rest of the trip could work out as well as Harry’s robe choices had. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry plopped onto the chair stationed in front of his mirror. He started the process of applying Sleakeasy’s to his hair, reducing the volume of his curls and arranging them in a more closely-cropped style. He’d done it enough times to finish his task mindlessly, so he let his thoughts drift to how he would contain his magic while in such a saturated place as the Alley. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The trip to Gringotts would be rough, but it wasn’t a stop they could avoid. The first summer before Hogwarts was when Potter Heirs could open a personal vault and receive a prospectus on which companies and industries may be good investments. His parents would allow him a small amount of money to make initial investments prior to September 1st. Depending on his grades at the end of term and how his investments had done over the course of the year, they would reevaluate how much of his trust vault (minus the money necessary for his school supplies) he was allowed to use in his portfolio. So, no. Harry couldn’t refrain from entering the bank, despite the heavy goblin magic that saturated the building. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It wasn’t as if he hadn’t been practicing calming his magic, even against external threats. Dad and Pads had both layered some protective spells on the third-floor sitting room so Harry could practice residing in a room with tensed, hostile magic that had yet to snap. It had been ugly the first few weeks, but Harry was much better at keeping his magic under his skin all these months later. </p>
<p> </p>
<p><em> What if I can’t do it when it counts though? </em> Harry’s fingers trembled as he swept the last curl into place. He moved his shaking hands to his lap, turning his palms upwards so he didn’t grab onto his pants and wrinkle the fabric. <em> What if my magic gets aggravated by the muted aggression of the goblins’ magic and I can’t keep lightning from flying off my skin and frying all the wixen who thought they were just making a withdrawal to buy their kid’s birthday present or something?! What if I hurt my parents again as they try to help? What if Connor gets caught in the crosshairs? We’ll be out as the Potter Family. I’ll embarrass the Family and the Potter Magic will be upset with me. It’ll be cold and staticy, and I’ll let everyone down and they’ll be so disap-- </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>A knock on his bedroom door echoed through the room, breaking Harry out of his spiraling thoughts. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Bear, I swear if you picked other robes I will throw a tantrum so impressive that even Uncle Moony will get angry with me.” It didn’t happen often, but Harry had no doubt Connor could accomplish such a difficult feat if he so chose. “Even if I have to add that to my morning schedule, could you let me in and fix my hair?” His voice carried a hint of a whine at the request. “I tried to make it settle on my own, but it’s just hopeless when I give it a go.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry smiled, feeling something tight in his chest relax. Yupp, Connor had progressed to a full whinge. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Not sure how you manage to tame it when we use the same potion, but whatever,” Connor grumbled. His voice was accompanied by a familiar sounding ‘thunk’ as he bonked his head against the door, and Harry smirked. He was well aware that Connor’s problem was always putting the Sleakeasy’s on the ends of his hair rather than starting at the roots. “Please?” Connor pleaded.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry took a deep breath and stood up. As he walked over to let his brother into the room, he put his 10 minutes of panic behind him. He took a glance at himself in the mirror as he made his way across the room. Tailor-made robes smooth and pristine. Curly hair subdued but never tamed. Contacts in and leftover pocket money tucked into the moleskin wallet Sirius had gifted him for Yule. He was ready.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He swung the door open, taking in the sight of Connor pouting in the hallway with a chuckle. He was tugging at his wild curls with one hand in frustration, making them spring back and stick out in an even more unkempt manner.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re in luck. I happen to be quite proud of these robes. No tantrum necessary.” Harry said in a jaunty tone, pulling a reluctant smile out of his brother. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Thank Godric. Now can you do something about this mess?” Connor retorted, waving at the general vicinity of his head. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sure can. Go sit down at the vanity, Bug. I’ll grab the potion.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Not five minutes later, both Potter brothers had finished their final inspections. Connor ran his hands down the folds of his robes, checking for wrinkles. Harry gave both his and Connor’s hair another once over, looking for any stray strands, and he had reminded Connor to pat his pockets, affirming he had everything they were told to bring with them for today’s trip.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>At Connor’s nod, Harry ushered his brother out the door and shut off the lights in his room. As his hand made contact with the staircase’s bannister, Harry used the feel of the smooth wood under his palm to anchor himself to the moment.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>His only thought as he made his way down to greet his uncles and accept their shoulder pats, extra sickles and congratulations was, <em> It’s showtime </em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That,” Harry sighed in relief, “went much better than I’d thought it would be.” He felt Pads’ hand resting on his shoulder give him a small congratulatory squeeze. It was a comforting weight that anchored him to the street when his pleasure at having made it in and out of the bank without any major incident made him feel so light he could float off into the London sky.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I only smelt a hint of smoke once, Har,” his dad commented with a proud smile on his face as he ushered the family towards the Apothecary. “Well done.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Looks like those burned books went towards a good cause,” Sirius laughed, making Harry blush at the reminder of the crisp covers and blackened spines that had suffered under his magic’s backlash when he had first started working in the protected sitting room.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Do you have any ideas as to what you’ll do with the money Mum and Dad gave you, Harry?” Connor chipped in, having been too awed at the new vault the Potters had opened in Harry’s name to ask while they were still inside. His brother had always been fascinated by Gringotts and the sprawling caverns whose walls glittered in the dim lighting.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Maybe. I want to take a look at everything Snaptooth laid out for me before making any decisions though.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“A good choice,” Remus chimed in approvingly. “Using the tools others provide for you is a better use of your own ingenuity than spurning the advice of those who have a deeper understanding would be.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“The sanctimonious chocolatier is correct.” Uncle Sev chimed in, his dark eyes glittering with good humor. Harry grinned. The relationship between his uncles had mellowed over the years, but none of them could pass up the opportunity to take gentle jibes at each other. “Always make use of all the information available to you when making your decisions.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Pads rolled his eyes as he followed behind the Potions Master who had an arm draped around Connor. Uncle Sev was steering his godson subtly, keeping him  on track. Left to his own devices, Connor would be off like a shot, running over to peer in at the nearest window display like he wanted.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sirius couldn’t restrain himself fully as they made their way into the apothecary. “Speaking of the pedantic potioneer, this stop is your area of expertise, Severus. Care to exchange godsons?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Earlier his uncles had agreed to each take a single store of Harry’s shopping trip to help Harry purchase his supplies. This way, they’d each get to contribute to his shopping and spend some one-on-one time with Harry without intruding on James and Lily’s right to provide for their son’s first year of school.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Uncle Sev, of course, had chosen to guide Harry through purchasing his potions ingredients. Pads would be helping him collect his telescope, astrolabe and star charts while Remus would take him to look for an animal to accompany him to school as well as to browse the bookstore for a tome or two outside his Hogwarts list and the books his dad had require for House Training this year.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mum and Dad would still be the ones to help him pick out a trunk, gather his first-year textbooks, stand for his school robes and collect the rest of the bits and bobs that he needed for the school year. Everyone would accompany him to the wand shop. Normally his parents would have let him purchase his wand alone, but, with Harry’s magic in the opening stages of an unrealized bond, it would be safer for more adults to be in the vicinity, providing protection for both the people and the merchandise in the shop. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Two hours later, the group of seven were giving Harry’s school list and Lily’s independently-scribbled list of necessities a final check. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Potion ingredients, caldron, scales?” Lily called out, eyes seeking her best friend’s confirmation. If anyone else had asked, the man’s acerbic tone would have cut them to the quick, but all the red-headed witch got in return was a huffed, “Yes, Lil. All potions equipment is purchased and shrunk down in my pocket.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“School books?” She continued. James hummed in response and patted his own trouser pocket. “Training and personal books as well.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Lily nodded. “Good. I’ve got his robes pressed, shrunk and packed in his trunk, which is also with me. Parchment, quills, calendar, wax, and other loose ends?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“All bought and with me.” Remus answered. “I also already popped back to the house to drop off Harry’s new feline friend and get her set up.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“A cat, really Har?” Connor’s interjected with a shocked tone, his disbelief making Harry scowl. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“There’s nothing wrong with choosing a cat,” the ten-year old insisted. “Especially since I’ll be spending time in the owlery next month to see which Potter owl I bond with best.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His brother waved off Harry’s reasonable response. “Sure, fine. Of course you don’t need an owl.” Everyone, because of course their parents and uncles were listening in, was confused at Connor’s skepticism at Harry’s choice. What else would he get, a toad? No. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I can’t believe you didn’t get a snake!” Oh. The whole group froze. Harry honestly hadn’t considered it. Neither had the adults, but mostly because they had forgotten Harry was able to speak with serpents. He still had never spoken parseltongue in front of them. Only Connor had ever heard him speak to the snake that lived on the property.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Before Harry had a chance to wonder if he had chosen poorly, James gave everyone the excuse they were looking for. “Well, snakes aren’t on the approved pets list are they, Bug?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m sure they’d make an exception considering--” Connor started, before Severus cut him off. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re right, little prince,” Uncle Sev said. Harry smirked, and Connor refused to make eye contact, doing his best not to pout. He secretly loved the nickname, but, <em> ugh </em>, Harry would be teasing him over this for at least another year now. “The school would likely make an exception if they knew of Harry’s ability. However, it’s not something the family is sharing with the public. Remember?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Connor’s eyes widened, and he looked at his brother with apologies in his eyes and ready to fall from his lips. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey, it’s fine, Connor. No one heard, and I’m not upset,” Harry soothed. His honesty was clear on his face for everyone to see.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Lily laid a hand on Connor’s shoulder as Sirius slung an arm across Harry’s shoulders, whispering something that made Harry smile softly and nudge his godfather with his elbow. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Alright then. Pet safe and secured. Astronomy equipment? Runes workbooks? Extra journals?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Pads was the final one to answer. “Check, check and check. I’ve got the lot, Lils.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Fantastic. All that’s left is your wand, Harry. After that we can all grab a spot of ice cream before we head home.” All six wizards perked up at that pronouncement, even Severus. Fortescue’s really did have the best ice cream, boasting flavors to suit all palates. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>James shook himself out of thoughts about mouthfuls of white chocolate strawberry ice cream as he saw Harry’s shoulders tense. He made eye contact with Pads, sweeping his eyes down to his son after he had Sirius’ attention. His best friend took a quick look at Harry’s ramrod straight back, more upright than even his robes demanded, and inclined his head just enough to notice if one was looking for it. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Har, can I have a word real quick? Just want to give you a bit of advice that Pop gave me when I was about to match with my wand.” He sent a reassuring smile Harry’s way, and felt a swell of pride rise in his chest at the quick upturn of Harry’s lips and the determined set to his eyes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The pair stepped to the side as the rest of the group joked with Connor about the hassle of having to do all this again in two years. James covertly cast a simple privacy ward, warning Harry right before he released his magic. They had learned it was best to let the boy know when someone would be casting around him, if possible. Harry felt the grassy breeze of his dad’s magic surround them, noticing the minty fog of Pads’ spell reinforcing the ward a moment later. Harry and his dad shared a grin as Sirius’ magic washed over them. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ah, Pads, the best friend a wizard could have.”<br/><br/>“The best godfather too,” Harry added, then paled suddenly. “But don’t tell Uncle Sev I said that.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>James chuckled. “Marauder’s honor. Your secret’s safe with me.” He paused, and Harry seemed to shrink into himself as he remembered why it was he’d become visibly nervous. James sighed and went down on one knee to be of a similar height to his brave son. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey now. It’s alright.” He started, tapping his index finger under Harry’s chin to coax him into looking James in the eyes. “You’ve done so well today, sport. Even better than I expected, and I had high hopes.” Harry’s rueful smile sent a pang right into James’ core. He hated this. Hated that today wasn’t a bright, shining occasion for his eldest. If he could have taken this burden away, he would in an instant. James would pay most any price for Harry to match with his wand and feel <em> whole </em>. Instead, he’d be adding another piece to the jumbled up puzzle of his unbonded magic. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Thanks, Dad,” Harry said shyly. “I thought Gringotts would be more of a strain, but that prep work really helped. The magic coating the walls didn’t feel as dangerous as it might have if we hadn’t practiced.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, I’m more than glad we did it in that case. How’s your magic feeling at the moment?” James asked, smiling in as reassuring a manner as he could manage. He let a bit more of his magic out to warm the air around them, knowing it would comfort his young son.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry bit his lip slightly, not worried about anyone seeing his insecurity thanks to the ward. “A little too bottled up? It’s not anything I’d worry about on a normal day, but as we finished up at the stationary store I kept thinking, ‘we know what comes next.’ and I know, I know,” Harry raised a hand to cut his dad off from a reminder about how worrying about things that were out of his control only made it harder for him to have a say over what he could. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>James bit back a grin, not having planned on interrupting. He had repeated that mantra enough times, as was clear. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I know that only makes it harder to keep my magic manageable, but I can’t help it.” Harry’s voice had risen along with his fervor, but it fell now, almost too soft to make out with the bustle of the Alley surrounding them. “I just don’t want to hurt anyone again.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh Harry,” James murmured, pulling his son into an embrace just 10 meters away from the store that had been haunting him for months. He rubbed a hand down Harry’s back, more concerned with comfort than with wrinkled robes and house dignity.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Listen to me, right now,” James said, making sure to keep his gaze locked with his son’s fearful eyes. Merlin, shopping for his school supplies shouldn’t be an event that made his boy’s eyes water. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>His voice rang out firm but not unkind as he continued, “It will not be like the day the bond opened. I promise. We, all of us,” he gestured vaguely to where the rest of their group were chatting idly as they waited for the father-son duo to finish their discussion, “were unprepared. Your situation is far and away different from mine and Mum’s, and for all our thoughts of <em> maybe </em>, we had carelessly deemed it unlikely for you two to lock eyes.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>James and Harry shared a rueful smile, thinking about their overconfidence prior to the fateful Wizengamot meeting. “But now we are ready,” James stated. He could read the uncertainty on his son’s face and he gripped Harry’s shoulders tighter, trying to convey the strength of his convictions through the steadiness of his grip.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Harry, we’re <em> ready </em>,” He repeated. The words felt like an oath as they fell from his lips, and James could feel a tingle run up his throat. He wouldn’t show it to his son, but the knowledge that James’ magic believed what he was saying banished the last of his own doubts.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’ve made so much progress, worked so hard to understand your magic as it is. I know it’s far from perfect, but just think about how much easier it is to make your magic work with you now.” He didn’t even pause as he watched Harry consider what he was saying, wanting to keep them focused on the positives. “Not to mention, you have five fully-trained adults who know your magic as it is, wild and unruly and protective and <em> still you </em>. All of us are going into this shop with our senses alert and magic at the ready.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>James reached up to ruffle the boy’s hair but settled for threading his hand though the hair at the nap of his neck when he remembered they were in public and had all tamed their hair for the day. Harry leaned into his palm, and James rubbed a thumb over his son’s cheek, offering whatever comfort he could. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We have a plan for what to do if and when the temperature rises, how we’ll handle any hint of static in the air.” He explained, knowing Harry would relax further if he knew the details of their preparations. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Mum will be fully focused on protecting Connor. Remus on protecting the building. Sirius will be shielding Severus and I, who will be ready to raise protections around everyone else and you in the case that your magic goes fully feral. If things get dangerous, we know we can manage it.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>James could tell that his own confidence was beginning to inspire the same in his son, and he wanted to encourage it further. Harry deserved to believe in himself, to trust that he wasn’t a danger to others or to himself. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“But, Har, I don’t think finding your wand will go as poorly as you think it will. Yes, it will be a shock to your core, and I am certain there will be some magical discharge as you test different wands, but, for all that your magic doesn’t want to add anything else besides Lord Slytherin’s into the mix, your wand will be a part of you. Your magic will accept it faster than you think,” James concluded. The tremulous smile Harry offered him made James want to beat his chest or throw a fist in the air in joy. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And if this all goes belly-up, I’ll buy a gallon of triple-chocolate ice cream and a bottle of treacle topping off Fortescue. We’ll have a bowl each night as we work on getting you accustomed to your wand, yeah?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry’s giggle brought a pleased smile to James’ face. At the boy’s nod, James pressed a kiss to his forehead and stood up, letting the magic woven into his trousers straighten the fabric to look fresh once more. With a flick of his wand, the privacy ward came down. Pads took it down from his side only a few seconds later, and James walked Harry back over to the group.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Alright then, everyone ready to watch Harry get his wand?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The various affirmative noises from his wife and their friends along with Connor’s excited babble made the last of the tension ebb from Harry’s shoulders, and James congratulated himself silently. They were ready.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</p>
<p> </p>
<p>As he crossed the entryway into the wand shop, Harry felt the sensation of the Ollivander Family Magic slide over him. Their magic tasted like carbonation, and Harry could hear the sssst of its release as it sought out the new storegoers. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>A watered-down ivory-colored finger of magic reached out to Harry and each member of his family. Apprehensive, Harry searched for the origin of the white tendril, finding a strip of glass embedded over the doorway. It looked to be filled with milky fog and was covered in softly glowing silver runes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>While Harry looked around, the tendril had made its way to him. The magic made contact with  Harry right over his heart, and he felt it sweep through him, searching. The foreign magic rattled inside Harry’s chest like iron chains begging to be unshackled. He felt his own magic rise up, defensive and suspicious of this new magic. As the two disparate forces met, Harry shut his eyes tight. He worked to hold back tears as his magic <em> mourned </em>, wailing loudly for only his ears to hear. The keening cry of ‘you are not who we seek’ echoed behind his eyes, caught at the bridge of his nose. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It ached, his magic’s longing for Tom. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Having Ollivander’s magic burrow inside of him had teased Harry’s yearning magic, letting it hope for just a moment that it had found its counterpart. Only his soulmate’s magic should be able to reach so far into his core. The fact that another magic that <em> wasn’t </em> Tom’s or a Potter’s had touched Harry’s was what made the Ollivander Family Magic so special, what led the family to maintain their trade as wandcrafters. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>No magic should be able to reach inside another wix. The only exceptions were their own Family Magic, their soulmate’s magic, and black magic.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The Ollivander Family Magic, however,  was unique; it broke the rules in a way no other family’s magic could. Its seeking properties somehow made it possible for the family to probe other wixen’s cores, helping the shop’s proprietors to tune into the best possible wood and magical creature core matches for each person’s unique magical signature. They had to have an idea of what their customers’ magic was seeking to find a wand that would connect to the witch or wizard.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was the threat of these foreign, undesired connections that made pairing with a wand such a difficult process for someone in Harry’s tenuous situation. Magic was sentient, responding independently despite being codependent on a wix’s core. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry’s magic seethed, reacting to the touch of the Ollivander magic. It beaded on the skin of his neck and dripped down his back under his robes like raindrops racing across a windowpane. Fat droplets welled up and fell like tears as every part of him <em> mourned </em> for his missing partner.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He closed his eyes, cutting off the onslaught of sensation as his magic ebbed out, trying to find the danger in the shop. Instead, Harry turned his mind inward and meditated. He was hovering on his broom, eyes feasting on the rich cerulean of the summer sky. He could smell the clean, chilly air as it rustled his hair. He felt the polished wooden handle beneath his palms, and he sensed his magic receding back under his skin as his mind convinced itself Harry was content and in a safe place.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>With a confident inhale, Harry opened his eyes. He glanced around at the shelves upon shelves lining the store, each hosting hundreds of miniature matte black boxes that protruded at various lengths, giving the display a combobulated look that half-amused and half-horrified him. Harry tried to tune out the buzzing coming from the boxes. So many different frequencies vibrating to rhythms that jarred his teeth. He couldn’t think of them for long, otherwise he’d have to sink into meditation again.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>At his side, Connor looked around the space with a different sort of awe. His wide eyes and exuberant smile helped Harry release a bit more of the tension he’d gained when entering the shop. He stepped forward towards the counter, and his dad and Uncle Sev fell in behind him. A quick glance over his shoulder showed Harry that Pads, Moony and Mum had all adjusted their positions once he made the first move. <em> They really do have a plan, </em> Harry thought <em> . </em> The relief swept through him, bolstering his faith that everyone would be safe. <em> Okay, I can do this </em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry made his way to the small hanging bell set up on the countertop and barely paused before pulling the cord back and forth twice. The resulting chime was softer, higher-pitched than he’d expected.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He stepped back to wait, the silence in the room making him antsy. His family rarely did quiet; the Potter household was a raucous one. Still, it made sense given the circumstances. It also made the appearance of Mr. Ollivander that much more noticeable for everyone. The slow footsteps echoed down a side aisle as he approached, and Harry could taste the fizz of his magic saturating the air.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Upon first glimpse, Harry couldn’t help but think, <em> Godric, he’s so old </em>. The thought was a bit rude, but true. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mr. Ollivander was a thin man of medium-height. His face was heavily lined and his skin was pale, as if it hadn’t often seen the sun. He had wispy gray hair that had partly escaped the tie he’d used to pull it back at the nape of his neck, and his robes were of the style Harry’s grandparents preferred: tight in the shoulders, neck and chest but long and billowing at the arms and loosely draping down to the the floor once past the waist. Despite his age, the wandmaker stood straight and kept his neck extended, keeping posture in which Harry’s dad would find no fault. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>His pale blue eyes had taken in his newest customers with a sharp intelligence that frightened Harry. He had too much to hide.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“A little earlier than I expected to see the Potter Heir in my shop, but welcome nonetheless,” Mr. Ollivander said graciously. The man’s smooth tenor was a sharp contrast to the feeling of his family’s magic, and Harry was relieved that he didn’t have to deal with both things grating on his thin nerves.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Thank you, Mr. Ollivander, sir,” Harry responded. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, come on up to the counter, boy,” Ollivander said. The wandmaker waved him forward, already turning to eye  the wall-to-wall shelves. If there was a method of organization to the jumble of boxes, it was a mystery to Harry. He’d bet only an Ollivander knew where anything was for certain. “Let me take my measure of you.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Drawing closer cautiously, Harry kept his back straight and his eyes on Mr. Ollivander’s wand where the tip poked out from beneath the hem of his long sleeve. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The man turned back to watch Harry’s measured approach. “No need to be wary. I know the magic feels strange, but it won’t hurt you. I give you my Word on that.” Harry swallowed even as he quickened his steps. <em> I’m not sure that’s a Promise you can make me, Mr. Ollivander, </em> he thought <em> . </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Place your wand hand palm-up on the counter, if you please, Mr. Potter,” Mr. Ollivander directed. Harry did as asked, ignoring every instinct to curl his fingers into a fist. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Even with all his senses on high-alert, all he could see was the light-colored wood of Ollivander’s wand as it emerged from the fabric of the wandmaker’s robes. The rounded tip stopped a few centimeters above Harry’s thumb, and Ollivander whispered a latin phrase too low for Harry to make out the exact words. He traced his wand up and down Harry’s fingers and around the heel of his hand, and Harry shook as he tried to keep his magic from snapping out at the spell as it sunk into his skin.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Whatever it was that Ollivander had invoked, it bubbled and tingled in Harry’s veins. It would have been uncomfortable even without his own magic’s angry lashback at the invasion. Still, Harry felt a <em> question </em> sweep up his arm, across his chest and down to his left hand. This time, he followed his instinct, bringing his other hand to rest, also facing upwards, next to its partner.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry couldn’t have resisted the urge if he’d wanted to do so. All of his focus was on keeping his rudimentary Occlumency shields up and surrounding the portion of his core housed in his mind. As he tuned in deeper to his magic, he realized its anger was tinged with confusion, and that break in its fury was what allowed Harry to reel it back in from where it had glistened on his skin. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He looked up at Ollivander. The man’s face was blank, revealing nothing, but his eyes had a dangerous spark in their pale blue depths that made Harry shiver as the man muttered, “Curious. Very curious.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em> He knows </em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry sensed more than saw his dad stiffen in his peripheral vision. “What’s curious, Ollivander?” James questioned, his tone hiding the worry that Harry knew he felt at such a reaction.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ah, Lord Potter. 11 inches, mahogany and the heartstring of a particularly tame Welsh Green. Pliable and excellent for transfiguration.” The wandmaker recited the sale from twenty years ago without blinking or looking away from the younger Potter in front of him. “As you know, I remember every wand I’ve ever sold, Lord Potter.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Yours, Lady Potter’s --Willow, 10 and ¼ inches and featuring a Ukranian Ironbelly heartstring--.”  He did not spare a glance towards the woman in question, standing by the entryway holding  her youngest son’s hand in one hand and the self-same wand in the other. Instead, he continued his staring contest with Harry as he reminisced aloud. “I remember being surprised with your match, my Lady, but it fits your magic even more now than it did at 11. Magic always knows, you see.  And that’s what is curious about young Mr. Potter here.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The wandmaker narrowed his eyes, making Harry’s widen in response, before turning on his heel and walking straight to a shelf in the back left of the shop. Harry pulled his hands back to his sides but didn’t step back to stand next to his father, despite how much he wished to do just that. He watched and tried not to fidget as Ollivander’s long, narrow fingers crept up and over a dozen boxes, scattering dust into the air as he plucked out one here, one there, one from underneath a stack of five, one from the very top of a towering column.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You see,” he said with his back still to the rest of the room, “magic tendencies don’t necessarily run in families. People are too varied to be gemini copies of their parents or siblings. However, they often share traits, links to their heritage if you will. In particular, those with strong connections to their Family magic typically present with such ties embedded in their core, but,” he paused, collecting one last box and adding it to the stack in his arms before turning and making his way back to the countertop. “Young Heir Potter’s magic is remarkably untethered for a young wizard in his position.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He unloaded the boxes from his arms carefully, setting up each of the five a foot away from the one before it and arranging them in a straight line in front of Harry.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That’s not to say that I didn’t detect any of those markers,” Ollivander reassured them all as he worked. “I did. No need to fear a lack of connection to the Family magic Lord Potter.” Harry heard his Dad’s soft sigh of relief and felt his own shoulders untense at the man’s words. “You can relax too, Lord Black.” Ollivander said, eyes flicking to the side to take in the momentary tightening of Sirius’s features. “The boy is connected to both.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Confused, Harry struggled not to react. He wanted to turn and question his godfather more than anything, especially if it meant putting off testing these wands. He had never tried using the Black Family magic. Sure, there were a few familial ties between the Potters and Blacks, but Harry knew his family tree. There wasn’t a direct connection that would, or at least should, allow him access to the Black magic. The branch connecting their families was a slim one, generations back.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em> Well </em> , Harry thought, <em> I’ve always adjusted to the feel of Sirius’ magic easier than any other non-Potter Family magic. But isn’t that just because he’s my magic-sworn godfather? I don’t remember Dad ever mentioning that he has a connection to the Fawley magic </em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sirius broke the tense silence. “Good to know, Ollivander, but I think you were supposed to be explaining what’s curious about my godson’s magic rather than stirring up things that should be confidential under the oaths you took as a custodian of your Family’s magic.” His tone was clipped, and Harry felt his core thrum again in anxiety at the swell of irritation in the room. <em> So, something other than a normal godfather bond then, as if I don’t have enough to deal with in regards to my magic </em>. He tried to push back the tears that threatened his vision. This was not a place to let his frustration overwhelm him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ollivander’s eyes returned to Harry, and they conveyed a hint of apology as the man took in Harry’s bewildered look. “Yes, yes. The noteworthy aspect of his magic isn’t a lack of connections or groundings to his heritage, but rather an openness, a willingness to that which he has not yet experienced.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What does that mean for Harry?” Connor asked, his quiet voice carrying from where he stood with Lady Potter near the door. His mother squeezed Connor’s shoulder. Harry couldn’t tell if it was supposed to be a comforting or a cautioning gesture, and neither could Connor from the way he turned a questioning glance at his mother.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“In short, it means that I know the only type of core that would suit your brother, young Mr. Potter.” The wandmaker said not unkindly. “It’s rare to find a wix that isn’t already closed off to certain ideas or schools of thought, even at eleven. I don’t see it often, but every time I do I sell another phoenix feather wand.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The older man removed the lid from the first box that sat farthest to the left in front of Harry, as he continued his answer to Connor’s question. “One doesn’t need to be open to be suited to the phoenix, child, but those who are willing to explore, to discover the possibilities that the world has to offer are always favored by the wildness of the phoenix feather, the unceasing burn of the flame.” He returned his gaze to Harry, gesturing him towards the first wand.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“This particular wand is 12 inches, ash and phoenix feather. It was crafted by my grandfather and is very picky in its wielder. I’m not certain it will be the wand for you, Mr. Potter, but I think it’ll eliminate at least one other option depending on how your core reacts.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry reached out with trepidation, wrapped his fingers around the polished handle and pulled the wand out. He nearly dropped the tool as he felt its magic pressing against him, reaching for its wizard. Harry gave it a short flick, sending a burst of wind towards the nearest shelf, buffeting the precarious towers of wands it housed and almost threw the wand back in its box in his haste to <em> get it off get it off </em> get it out of his hand. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>For a split second, the wand had warmed in Harry’s palm as the magic sunk below his skin, but once it had actually come into contact with his roaring magic it had felt like metal shearing against his nerves.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, that’s a no then.” Ollivander stated dryly. Remus’ soft chuckle echoed next to Pads and prompted light laughter from the other adults. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Happens to almost everyone, kiddo.” Sirius said. “There’s always at least one wand that feels so bad you don’t want to try the next one.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hopefully that was the only one,” Harry teased back weakly, trying to cover up his trembling hands and shaky breaths. “Because I’m not sure my magic will let me pick up another wand that feels like that,” he finished, more serious than joking.   Harry exchanged a glance with his Uncle Sev, who tightened his grip on his wand and nodded back. They were ready. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ollivander packed up the ash wand and placed it to the side, pulling the third wand out of line and putting it next to the rejected wand. “Not to worry. I had a feeling that would either be a big hit or a huge miss. I removed a cedar option as well.” He explained, pointing to the box he’d separated that Harry hadn’t tried. “I actually think your magic would be suited to either of those woods, but there’s an unstable quality to your magic that is rare to see in one so young. That is what rejected the ash so strongly.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Everyone bar Mr. Ollivander froze as what he said settled over the room. Before anyone so much as reacted, the wandmaker sighed, dropping his blank, professional mein. “As my oaths have already come up once during this visit, I think you should all know that I am unable to say anything upon this subject once young Mr. Potter leaves here with his wand.” He rubbed a hand down the side of his face, his exhaustion at the very idea visible. “I wouldn’t have shared such information even without the oaths, but still, rest assured. I’m not sure how it happened, but it’s clear you’re all aware of the state of Harrison’s magic.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Here he focused on Harry, approval clear upon his face. “With the way your core reacted to my Family magic, you must have a good grasp on it for someone your age if nothing has exploded yet. I’m sorry it happened to you, child, but you should be proud. Most other eleven-year olds would have destroyed my entryway the moment they crossed the threshold if they’d had magic as volatile as yours.” Ollivander spoke earnestly despite the sadness evident in the lines of his mouth, and Harry couldn’t help, but blush at such praise from a man known throughout all of Wizarding Britain.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Thank you, sir,” Harry said. “I’m doing my best. I’ve been,” he paused, remembering his mini panic attack before walking into the store. “A bit nervous about today.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>His mum’s and Connors simultaneous snorts broke the tension, and soon everyone except the wandmaker was laughing, their mirth filling the shop. Even Ollivander’s lips had quirked upwards at the clear understatement inherent in the boy’s admission. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, I’m not giving you free license to destroy the place, but the door is locked and the wards are up. You don’t have to pretend in here, Mr. Potter,” Ollivander concluded, a note of sympathy in his voice. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry offered the man a grateful, genuine smile and asked about the next box. “Alright then. What’s this one made of?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ollivander lifted the lid, revealing a light colored wand with curved lines decorating the silky wood. Harry’s magic stirred, reaching out in curiosity to the wand he could feel pulsating where it lay. “This wand is 11 and ⅓ inches, carved from the wood of a cypress tree and encasing the feather of a phoenix I met while traveling in Scandinavia.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry pulled the wand from the box with more care than he had the ash wand. He tightened his grip on the handle finger by finger and twisted it in his hand without giving it a wave. He could feel the magic pulsing, testing his own. This wand didn’t sting his hand or reject him immediately. Harry cocked his head to the side unknowingly, making Ollivander raise an eyebrow as the boy seemed to listen to the wand in his hand.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry knew before he gave the cypress wand a flick that it was not meant to be his. It was compatible; he could learn to use it, but the rhythm was off. The pace of the wand’s magic was too steady, too calculated to truly mesh with his core. He flicked it anyway, making pale yellow sparks emerge. He could hear the excited inhalations of his uncles and mother, but shook his head as he placed the wand back into its box.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Not that one, although in another life it might have been mine.” He said simply, quelling the questions the adults had been about to let loose.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’ve got a strong magical sense then, Mr. Potter.” Ollivander commented as he replaced the lid and moved the cypress wand to the side with the other rejected options. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I used to,” Harry said, refusing to look away from the last two wands. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You still do.” The man said, his surety made Harry look up to meet his eyes. “If you can listen in spite of the additional noise, then it’s much stronger than average. Now, I think I know which one it will be, but might as well be thorough.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The wandmaker removed the lid of the fourth box. It contained a long, red-tinted wand that Harry wanted to pick up immediately. He reached for it even before Ollivander had finished detailing its features. “13 inches. Red pine and, of course, phoenix feather.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry felt his magic rise as he grasped the wand. He moved it through the air with a swish, and the air currents in the shop changed, mimicking the wand movement Harry had just executed. They swirled in a graceful loop and filled the room with the smell of evergreen needles. For a moment, he thought he had found his wand, but then the warmth faded from the wood, and the instrument felt cool in his hand once he brought the wand back down.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry handed it back without a word, a sadness welling up in him over the near match. Ollivander took the wand from his fingers, giving Harry’s hand a pat while doing so. “It’ll be the next one. I was nearly certain after the cypress. Go ahead and open it yourself, Harrison.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry paused, looking over his shoulder towards his waiting family.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His brother stood in front of their mum, and her arms were wrapped around him. They both watched in awed nervousness for him while Moony stood to their right, eyes alert and scanning the room for which magical instruments would be dangerous if broken once Harry matched with his wand. Pads continued to lean lightly against the wall even further to the right. He only had eyes for Harry. When he saw his godson’s tentative look, Sirius gave him a small nod and a lopsided grin that he usually only used in private. Harry grinned back without thought. That smirk had always meant ‘things are about to get interesting, Pronglet’, and well, Pads was right, wasn’t he?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Uncle Sev was stoic, arms folded as he waited for Harry to proceed. The potions master was leaning forward slightly though, giving away his readiness in case something unexpected happened. His dad was the only one who spoke, and the smile he offered enveloped Harry like a hug. “Go on, son. We’re right here.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry turned back to the countertop and lifted the lid, gently setting it to the side. He took a second to just look at the richly colored wood of the wand in the box. It was lovely and shiny and he could feel his magic rise once again in curiosity.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I was the one to craft this particular wand, Mr. Potter. 11 inches. Holly from a particularly lovely tree in Cheshire. And the tail feather of a well-known phoenix.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry didn’t look away from the wand when he asked, “Are there famous phoenixes?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The wandmaker huffed a laugh. “More like infamous with the mischievous personality of this bird. He’s bonded to Hogwarts, in truth, which makes him well known in our society.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Fawkes gave the feather for this wand?” Harry’s dad questioned, startled. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Indeed, Lord Potter,” Ollivander replied. “Just up and flamed in about 30 years back, leaving the tail feather and a puff of smoke in his wake.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They all sounded so fond of the creature. Harry wondered if he’d get to meet the phoenix when he went off to school or if it’d take a few years to catch a glimpse of the legendary bird.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Harry plucked the wand out with his index finger and thumb. A zing of his golden magic jumped out his wrist and raced down the length of the wood, sinking into the tip at the other end. As he brought his other fingers to wrap around the handles, the wand began to vibrate. Harry’s arm felt heavy and syrupy, like he’d be forcing it to move through treacle if he went to swish the wand. He could feel his magic pouring out, see the sparkle of it on his skin. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Behind him, everyone braced themselves. Off to the side, Ollivander readied his wand, prepared to react to whatever reaction manifested at the connection.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry used all his mental willpower to draw a circle in the air with the holly wand and end with a small jab forward. As he finished the movement, the dense liquid of his magic thinned. It pooled down his right arm and encased the still vibrating wand. Harry’s golden magic sunk into the wood and he could feel the wand’s rhythm thumping inside his chest. His whole torso felt full and tight as the beat blared inside him, but in the space between his exhilarated inhale and his exhale, the rhythms resonated, merging into a steady <em> thump thump thump </em> that Harry felt like he’d always known. It was his. It was <em> theirs </em> . In this choice, for one glorious instance, he and his magic were one again. <em> Ours. </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>A joyous smile broke out on his face as he watched a flurry of autumn leaves emerge from the end of his wand and dance around the room. Samara leaves twirled down from the ceiling, drifting to and fro in the breeze. He could smell resin in the air, and the soft rustling everything made as it floated to the ground was peaceful. There was still an emptiness in his chest. His wand hadn’t completed him, but it <em> had </em> filled one of the gaps that had made him ache so desperately these past eight months. Harry whooped and turned to face his family. He paused in his delight once he saw the six of them looking as if they’d just battled a tornado and won, but only barely. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>His parents and brother had taken the buffeting winds of Harry’s merge better than the rest. Their robes were still charmed to stay perfectly in place, after all, and no one knew how to pull off wind-ruffled hair better than the Potter family. Connor’s grin was bright as he glanced about at the chaos around him. “That was awesome, Har! And look, we found something even Sleakeasy’s can’t tame,” Connor laughed, pointing at the rest of the group. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Moony’s chuckles showed him to be taking his own change in appearance well. He was already smoothing down the hair that had escaped his tie, pulling it back as he re-tied the strip of leather that had kept it out of his face. He cast a quick refreshing charm on his robes and brushed a leaf or two off of his sleeves. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>While all of this was amusing, Harry had to bite his lips hard so he wouldn’t burst into laughter at the sight of both Uncle Sev and Uncle Padfoot frantically trying to return their hair to a semblance of elegance rather than the wind-scattered rat’s nest that it currently resembled. Sirius’ robes looked pristine, whereas Severus’ cloak and outerrobe were blown back as if by a blast. He had one of the helicopter-like leaves stuck to his neck too from where it had whirled down from the ceiling.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’d say sorry,” Harry quipped at the disheveled group, his bright smile undimmed even at the sight of hundreds of scattered boxes mixed in with ripped oak leaves and samaras strewn about the floor. “But I’m totally not.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts and theories in the comments!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Harry starts the trip to Hogwarts, Ollivander leaves the Potter Heir with some interesting information and Tom has thoughts on this year's sorting.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>God, it has been a crazy few months, but I am finally back with another update! To all of you who have been following this story, thank you so much for your support and your patience. My work life has been hectic to say the least these past couple months, and I wish I had been able to dedicate more hours to writing during that time. Regardless, I'm so excited to put this chapter out and see what y'all think! </p>
<p>As always, thank you to my fantastic beta, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/RudeHellion/works">Reign</a> for taking the time to beta when she herself is also a crazy busy human. I adore you. </p>
<p>Mini dedication to MakotoJinx for this chapter: I hope an update makes you feel even just a little better tonight and thank you for always encouraging me about this fic &lt;3</p>
<p>I hope you all enjoy the update!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Harry flopped back against one of the plush seats in his compartment and let out a relieved sigh. With the door closed and his trunk shrunk and stowed away,, Harry could finally relax with his journal and a few books. He had hung his plum outer robe on one of the available hooks that each train compartment offered for the young wixen during the ride.  Safe in his isolation, Harry allowed his cheerful mask to crack and his tumultuous magic more leeway to crackle. His fingertips glowed golden, the soft light seeping out from where his hands laid against the soft silk of his dark charcoal trousers. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The train hadn’t even left the station yet, and Harry was glad for the momentary solitude. While a part of him wanted to crawl over to the window and search for his family’s familiar faces on the platform outside, a smaller part of him that he didn’t often let out just wanted a moment without having to please anyone. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Here, alone and away from the curious eyes of other Heirs or his parents, Harry could let himself feel anything he wanted. He didn’t have to press the joy and excitement for his first glimpse of Hogwarts to the front. When he was by himself, he could let frustration bubble up his throat and transform his features into the angry child he had so desperately wanted to be these past few weeks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry leaned his head back against the cushioned wall and clenched his eyes shut, hoping to rid himself of the memory of his parents’ apologetic grimaces and pity-filled eyes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em> I know they needed to tell me. It was better to hear the rumors from friendly lips, especially if I sort Slytherin. My reaction to such information coming out in the common room or being whispered about in the dormitory would have been revealing, not to mention dangerous. Still, they should have told me sooner! </em>If they had told him months ago, Harry could have come to terms with the rumors by now. Probably. He could have at least had enough time to mull over their words in his mind so that his magic wouldn’t rise along with his agitation whenever he thought of—</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry’s nose jolted him from his fury and alerted him to the state of the compartment. The scent of smoke and charred fabric wafting from the seats was acrid in the enclosed space, and once he noticed it, his eyes sprung open and widened at the sight in front of him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Shite,” he muttered. The cushions were smoking and the edges had blackened as Harry’s magic had spread from where he had dug his fingers into the seat. The metal accents had carried the magical current across to the other benches and had tarnished slightly under the intense heat that passed through them. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry took a deep breath in and pushed his anger out along with his exhale. A small tongue of fire flickered from his mouth, something he’d grown used to every time he’d felt that flush of anger rise within him in the handful of weeks since that discussion with his parents. Better out and dissipating in the air than pushed down through his fingers and destroying more furniture. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He got up to open the window so the cool London air could clear out the burnt smell. While standing there, Harry gave in and sought out his family still standing on the platform so as to wave the train, and him, off to school. They stood near enough to Harry’s compartment that he could make out their faces with ease. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>His uncles and father were clearly placing bets, most likely on Harry’s sorting. He couldn’t stifle his fond smile as he watched his dad’s hand swat at Uncle Padfoot’s head. He swore he could hear Moony’s rich laughter echoing around him in the compartment, even though he knew it was wishful thinking amidst the cacophony of platform 9 ¾. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>His mum was chatting with Lady Longbottom. Harry remembered his mother saying they had been friends during their school years despite the two-year age difference between the women. Connor was still taking in the scene around him. He looked both awed and overwhelmed as he scanned the gleaming scarlet train and stood amidst the press of hundreds of families seeing their children off to another term in Scotland. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry chuckled to himself as he saw Connor startle. A family bustled past the younger boy, clearly in a hurry to get their daughter on the train, and her tawny owl hooted indignantly as its cage knocked into Connor. It must have been a hard hit, because Harry watched his already overbalanced brother topple over and crash to the ground while said owl looked on approvingly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Connor scrambled up frantically and glanced about, surreptitiously checking to see if his parents had noticed his graceless tumble. Harry could see his shoulders slump as he sighed in relief at their distracted and oblivious faces. Connor continued to scan the crowd, looking around to see if anyone else had been witness to his run in with the harried family. Just as he relaxed, thinking himself in the clear, his eyes locked with Harry’s and widened in a mixture of horror and embarrassment as he saw the mirth clear on his brother’s face. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry couldn’t stop laughing. Connor looked so ruffled. The boy made a rude gesture in Harry’s direction and the elder just laughed harder. He waved at his brother from the window of his compartment and then used his index finger to clearly tap against the left side of his chest twice. Connor’s exasperation disappeared and a sad smile took its place as he lifted his own hand to double tap over his heart in reply.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The private goodbye settled Harry and helped him pull the rest of his magic back under his skin. Today wasn’t about frustration. This wasn’t a day for anger or sadness or even the small seed of fear planted deep within his heart. There were plenty of other days to dwell on what his parents had told him. No, today was about excitement. He was finally headed to Hogwarts!</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He’d heard so many stories over the years. He couldn’t wait to explore the castle and carve out a home for himself within its stone walls. His father had passed along the map he and Harry’s uncles had spent hundreds of hours creating within the Gryffindor dormitory, and his mother had given him her first-year journal filled with her notes and observations as well as a beautiful empty journal for him to fill himself. It had a lovely plum vellum cover with the Potter House crest stamped into the center, and Harry couldn’t wait to put his experiences on its pages.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry sat back down and as he did so he remembered the state in which his magic had left the compartment. He shook his head at himself and withdrew his wand from the holster his godfather had insisted he purchase before they had left Ollivanders. The holly wood felt smooth and supple in his grasp, and the comforting warmth of his wand filled Harry with confidence. He pushed his resolution down its length and pictured the image of the compartment’s original state. When Harry felt like he could visualize each detail as it had been, he loosened the intense hold he had over the tumbling magic in his chest and fed a small strand of it through his wand. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The soft <em> reparo </em> seemed to echo loudly in the empty space despite barely being more than a whisper.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Each time he was able to successfully cast a spell, Harry felt relief and gratitude flood through his veins. His father had taken time away from his work with the Wizengamot to coach him through the beginning theory and practices of spell-casting, making it so Harry didn’t have to spend the first few weeks of his time at school full of fear that he’d hurt his peers when trying to use his unruly magic. Normally his parents wouldn’t have taught him anything beyond the absolute basics in any of his wanded subjects, but from almost the moment he’d brought his wand home it was obvious that if there was any spell Harry needed to be able to produce, it was <em> reparo </em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He’d had to practice for hours each day with his wand ever since coming home with the phoenix-feather focus three and a half months ago. His father had helped him figure out how much magic he needed to expend from his core in order to power the mending charm, in addition to covering the basic spells that Harry would be learning during his first term. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The necessity of these lessons, beyond just learning how to repair the damage from his ambient magic, had become obvious when Harry had gotten over excited upon returning home and accidentally pushed a burst of fire through his wand, setting the kitchen curtains alight. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It had been disappointing, realizing how much work he still had to do to maintain control when most other kids his age wouldn’t have to worry about regulating their power. They hadn’t experienced an influx to their system the way Harry had so their wand would connect to their cores naturally. Their spellcasting would be effortless and instinctive, coaxing out only as much magic as required. Harry, with his unresolved bond, had an excess of magic bottled up that jumped at the chance to escape, especially with a focus that was so attuned to both Harry’s <em> and Tom’s </em> magic.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ollivander had left him with that revelation just as Harry had handed over the galleons to pay for his wand and holster. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> The wandmaker’s features were relaxed as Harry dropped the coins into his palm, but his eyes focused on the boy in front of him. Harry felt as if the man was searching for something within him and he couldn’t tell whether or not Ollivander had found whatever it was. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> The rest of Harry’s family were either casting small charms to straighten their now-ruffled appearances or deciding on which flavors they’d be trying at the upcoming stop at Fortescue’s. Their chatter calmed Harry slightly, even while under Ollivander’s intense gaze. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “I find the case of your wand rather enlightening, Heir Potter.” Ollivander was not the type of man who deigned to whisper, but his voice was low and quiet, going unheard by anyone other than Harry amidst the din of the group’s jests and conversations.  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “I have no doubt you learned much today, Mr. Ollivander.” Harry agreed wryly.  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> The man’s eyes softened slightly. “Yes, but I’ve seen my share of early bonds. It happens more often than you’d think. Oh,” he shook his head slightly at Harry’s obvious surprise, “it’s still not a common occurrence, but yours isn’t the first opened bond I’ve seen among your soon-to-be yearmates.”  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Harry plucked that piece of information from the air and filed it away for the future. Free gifts like that didn’t come often.  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “It’s not an easy wind to fly against and for that I wish you all luck, but,” Ollivander chanced a glance towards the door, making sure Harry’s family was still occupied, “I was referring to the particular circumstances of the wand that chose you.” </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Harry kept his face blank as he waited for the next thing that would corrupt what should be a joyful moment in his life. He already felt a deep affection for his holly wand. The instrument sang to him, to his soul, and that instinctual rightness that has resonated within him at the first flick of his wand was a balm to the empty wrongness that had clung to him ever since that fateful Wizengamot meeting. He should have known that this moment couldn’t go untainted. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “Phoenix feather wands are already less common than wands of unicorn hair or dragon heartstring, but that wand, your wand, has a connection that most other wands of a similar core do not.” </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> The man could see the question in the child’s eyes, and he once again offered more knowledge than Harry would have expected. “It is rare to be granted a feather from a phoenix. The birds are grand creatures, each as different in temperament as the various forms of a flame. It is even rarer still to be granted more than a singular plume from the same phoenix, but Fawkes has seen fit to bestow me with two of his feathers over the course of my lifetime.”  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “I can’t think of any other wand in my shop that shares a single-sibling core, Mr. Potter.” He said as he went to gather Harry’s holster and the small tin of polish for the supple dragonskin. “The heartstrings of a single dragon provide for hundreds of wands, and a unicorn sheds many hairs simply by accident. The circumstances of Fawkes giving a second feather for your wand would be incredible enough on their own if I didn’t remember every wand I’d ever sold. But, for better or for worse, I do.” The pause that followed this statement lingered in the air and Harry couldn’t help but tense as he waited for Ollivander to continue. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “That wand you now carry has a brother,” Ollivander looked at the young Heir, impressed with and saddened for the boy, “and I think you know who wields it.”  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Harry had to remind himself to breathe.  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> The pieces started to come together in his mind: why his union with his wand was so much less destructive than they had assumed and planned for, why the connection to his focus had snapped into place within his core rather than grating against the flow of his magic like his dad has predicted, why the song of the phoenix crooned at the right tempo for his new magic. His wand had always been a partner; not half of a whole but a compliment to its counterpart.  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “Before you ask, such information will, of course, stay between us.” Ollivander had given him enough time to process, but they could only tarry at the counter so long before his family noticed.  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “Thank you, sir,” Harry said, voice steady even as his fingers trembled. “For everything.” </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry held onto that knowledge as if it were a candle in the dark of midnight. His and Tom’s brother wands reflected the crux of what his parents had taught him about soulmates<em> . </em>Everyone is complete on their own. We aren’t half of ourselves without them, but we are our best selves with the one person meant to stand beside us.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was the thought of Tom’s specter that had helped Harry gain enough control over his magic to begin using his wand. He had so much to learn to even be safe around his classmates, and the idea of Tom’s blue eyes watching his progress, seeing him fail, witnessing his success, formed much of his determination to master what his dad was showing him. Every time he was able to stem the flow of magic into his wand enough to produce a spell instead of a pyrotechnic display, Harry heard the soft notes of phoenix song. It felt like pride.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The lessons with his father had been, well, <em> brutal </em> wouldn’t be a bad description. They had only had one single session in the study where Harry had been working on occlumency and reigning in his magic before they moved to the warded dueling chambers in the cellar for the remainder of his lessons. Fewer valuables to destroy, significantly less flammable material. Once he had achieved a little more control, his father had made plenty of jokes about the irremovable scorch marks that scored the walls of the study. Pads had taken a single look before ruffling Harry’s messy hair and telling him, “Now that’s impressive, Pronglet.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>With another few whispered <em> reparo </em>’s, Harry had the train compartment mostly back to rights. The metal accents still had a hint of discoloration to them, but there was only so much he could do, even with his most-practiced spell. He slumped back into his seat, pulling his left leg under his right thigh. He withdrew his journal from his robe pocket so he could detail what had happened. He hoped to track his progress with keeping his magic under control, or at least to track his triggers so he could work on them during his meditations. </p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>Others</em> <em>withholding information that I should </em><em>objectively</em><em> know upsets me. What a surprise. </em>The tip of his quell pressed into the page hard enough to leave divots on the backside. Harry felt the vibrating rumble of the train engine roaring to life and shifted a small handful of pages ahead to begin his actual journal entries for the year with a note about the upcoming train ride and the heartfelt goodbyes with his family. His pocket jangled with loose coins his uncles had given him for the trolley as he fidgeted in his seat. He’d leave the beginning of his journal to his meditation training and incident reports. He snorted at the thought. <em>Incident reports, Godric, I sound like Uncle Sev</em>. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He was just putting his quill back to parchment when the compartment door rattled as someone tried to pry it open. Harry looked up and righted himself, sitting straighter, closing his journal and sliding it back into one of the inner pockets of his robe.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Whoever was at the door finally got the latch to slide back, and pulled the door open.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry offered a small polite smile and said, “Hello, my name is Harry Potter. You’re welcome to join me, if you’d like?” gesturing to the many empty seats in his compartment.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Inwardly, Harry grinned. <em> Let the games begin. </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, Tom, this year’s crop of first years has emerged from under the hat.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tom looked up from his notes on the newest import agreement draft to see Abraxas standing in the doorway of his study, a length of unfurled parchment spooling from his hand. Tom beckoned his friend forward to settle on the loveseat while he sent his various papers into the appropriate trays on his desk with a few flicks of his wand. He leaned back in his chair, resting his head against the comfortably worn leather for a moment before leaning down to pull out the bottle of firewhiskey and pair of glasses he had set aside for tonight.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>By the time he’d poured them each a healthy measure, set the bottle on the coffee table and settled into his own spot on the other couch, Abraxas had curled up on the sofa and left the parchment face down on the seat next to him. Tom smiled, just a quick lift in the corners of his mouth. Seeing his uptight friend unwind here in Tom’s home always sent a spike of satisfaction through him<em> . I never would have thought this possible, that first night after we had sat beneath the sorting hat </em> . <em> But now he has seen me at my worst and, somehow, trusts me still. </em> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It felt like an accomplishment.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tom toed his shoes off and followed his friend’s example, leaning back against the soft cushions as he allowed himself to finally relax. This little tradition was something of a night off for both men, and Tom was ready to do down the lists and take note of which houses gained which Houses in this year’s sort. It would, of course, devolve into gossip, speculation and plotting, but they had been doing this for four decades. They both knew why they were here.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tom took a sip of the smooth whiskey and raised an eyebrow at his friend’s twitching arm. His fingers were bouncing along the fabric of the couch in an even more unusual display, but the silver-haired man’s features were emotionless, the few lines on his face slack as if he were bored. If the restless drumming wasn’t enough of a sign of his effervescent mood, Abraxas’ eyes gave him away, shining with a pleased, almost jovial light. <em> Ah, his grandson sorted today. I had almost forgotten </em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He shouldn’t have though. Now that Tom thought about it, this year’s cluster had quite a few Primary Heirs as well as Secondary Heirs and House Representatives. He was also interested to see who had been selected as the prefects and Head Students. If it were that Burke boy, well, Tom wouldn’t riot but he would offer some scathing commentary the instant anyone asked his opinion. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He’d set out loose parchment on the end tables earlier in the day, but they preferred to talk through the sorting with their gut reactions before actually scribbling down notes on the politics of house placement.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I see you broke the seal already,” Tom teased, using his glass to gesture towards the list that Professor Vector had sent. The Head of Slytherin House would send out lists to any Slytherin alum who requested it, allowing those who cared to see the results before they were posted in the paper the next day. After a decade at the helm of the house after Slughorn’s retirement, Septima didn’t even need to consult her records to know she’d be sending an immediate copy to Lord Malfoy and a delayed copy to Lord Slytherin. Tom liked to let Abraxas have the first list, as had become their tradition, but he wanted his own scroll to file with the notes he would take tonight.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Abraxas scoffed. “I did a quick check to see where my grandson had gone, nothing more. Didn’t take in anything other than the column that had Malfoy underneath it, so don’t get your robes in a bunch.” He pulled the sheet up from where’d he’d left it and dropped it on the coffee table between them. He rolled his eyes at Tom who hadn’t stopped an amused rumble of laughter from escaping his throat. “Shut up, Tom. Like you wouldn’t do the same in my situation.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tom was so used to the bright flash of grief that he had pushed it down as soon as it had risen. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I have no doubt I would, my friend,” Tom sighed in response. Before Abraxas could do something ridiculous like pity him, Tom withdrew his wand and pressed the tip into the parchment on the table. He looked back at Abraxas, who had used the time to wipe his expression of anything other than lazy anticipation, and waited for his nod. Once he got it, Tom gave the parchment a tap over each column and then flicked his wand up sharply.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He sat back just as Septima’s voice began reading out the newest inhabitants of Gryffindor House. She had designed the spell that accompanied the parchment to pause at the conclusion of each house, once the first years, prefects and, if necessary, head students had been listed. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b> <em>Gryffindor </em> </b>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Lavender Brown </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Nathanial Fenwick </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Seamus Finnegan </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Gregory Goyle Jr. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Hermione Granger </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Neville Longbottom </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Marrion Meadows-McKinnon </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Parvati Patil </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Allison Prewett </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Sally Smith </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Dean Thomas  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Ronald Weasley </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> 5th Year Male Prefect: Percival Weasley </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> 5th Year Female Prefect: Anastacia Coleman </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Head Boy: Hector Burke </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>As Septima’s voice rolled smoothly through the list of students, one particular name had both sets of eyes widening in unexpected shock. When the spell paused, the friends exchanged amused glances.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“An even split for the lions this year,” Abraxas started. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Three newbloods, two halfbloods and seven purebloods,” Tom added. “Not to mention two primary Heirs, three secondary Heirs and two House representatives.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They let the dragon in the room linger, unmentioned, until l Abraxas broke and huffed out a laugh. “Gregory is going to be stunned stupid when he finds out! Not that I know the boy, but my grandson assumed he would follow his family’s tradition and sort Slytherin. It’s been a long time since a Goyle went anywhere else.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’ve never met the child, but we both know there’s plenty of reasons to sort outside family lines,” Toms said. They’d seen it time and time again over the years. Non-traditional sortings were important in opening lines of communication and friendship between families that had fallen into stagnant generational patterns. This could be quite good for House Goyle down the road. “He’ll have plenty of housemates who could be good allies once they take up their titles. It looks as if everyone else did follow their house lines though, with the exception of Granger, Thomas and Smith of course.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I wonder if the Meadows-McKinnon girl received any of her presenting House’s particular talents,” Tom speculated. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I hope so,” Abraxas said. “We all breathed a sigh of relief when they chose McKinnon as the primary donor. Despite her being born fourth, Marlene had more Sight than anyone since her great-grandmother, and they’ve had enough children to make the start of the second-generation line for the Meadows family.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tom nodded. He too remembered being pleased to hear that one of the Seers lines had been so greatly extended. Marlene and Dorcus Meadows-McKinnon already had five children, and the oldest was just 11. <em> Sounds a bit exhausting, but power to them </em>, he thought. Still, maybe it was worth having that many pairs of little feet running around since two of their children had been designated as the second generation of the Meadows establishment.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I cannot discuss the fucking Burke boy yet. Not until after the second glass.” Tom groused, shaking his head gravely while his friend threw his head back and laughed at Tom’s visible disdain. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“He can’t be as bad as you say.” The look Abraxas received in return was filthy and had him holding his stomach while he guffawed at his red-faced friend.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ready for the badgers?” Tom asked, deliberately changing the subject once the man had his mirth under control. Abraxas answered by raising his glass and taking another sip as Tom’s wand once again tapped the parchment. Septima’s voice rang out again.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b> <em>Hufflepuff </em> </b>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Hannah Abbott </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Susan Bones </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Millicent Bullstrode </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Vincent Crabbe </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Kevin Entwhistle </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Justin Finch-Fletchley </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Wayne Hopkins </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Megan Jones </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Ernie MacMillen </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Roger Malone </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Sally-Anne Perks </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Sophia Roper </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> 5th Year Male Prefect: Gabriel Truman </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> 5th Year Female Prefect: Jennifer Bones </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Head Girl: Amanda Prewitt </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Abraxas hmmed thoughtfully as the names echoed in the study. “Five newbloods, three halfloods and four purebloods, of which there are two primary Heirs, two House Representatives and a secondary Heir. That’s quite a good balance there.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tom nodded and said, “Hopefully the slight majority of wizard-raised children can teach the first-generation wixen our traditions. Hufflepuff is so go-with-the-flow. They’ll probably succeed at being kind and welcoming whereas the other three houses would be more pedantic when presented with five newbloods at once.”<br/><br/></p>
<p>The sound of Abraxas’s laugh made Tom smile in return. “Slytherins and Gryffindors would fear a mutiny and Ravenclaws would be so adamant they are right about the knowledge they have that they’d alienate the rest on the first night,”  said his chuckling friend. “If you mention I said this, I’ll kill you, but,” Abraxas admitted, “thank god for Hufflepuffs and their soothing way of making eleven-year olds comfortable in our world.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Secret’s safe with me,” Tom said, miming the wand movement for a silencing charm. “The Bones, Bullstrode and Abbott girls will be able to keep Robert MacMillen’s Heir in line,” he added after relaxing his wand arm. The pair shared a look, shivering slightly at the memories evoked by that trio of women. Mrs. Bones, Lady Bullstrode and Mrs. Abbott are . . . formidable.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“The boy looked puffed-up and proud as a lion when he accompanied his father to the ministry a few months back,” Tom noted. “A little humbling from the girls and learning from his newblood classmates should be good for him.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“If only he could pass that lesson on to his father,” Abraxas mumbled. They both drained the rest of their glasses, fully in agreement on Lord MacMillen. No more needed to be said of him and the ridiculous way he preened when motioned to speak at Wizengamot meetings.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tom moved the conversation along to the choice for this year’s Head Girl. “Well, at least they chose the perfect candidate to match with Burke as Head Students. Amanda Prewitt is a credit to her House, and will make an excellent Lady if her OWL results and the notes from her internship with William Griffiths are any indication.” The Arithmancy master had been singing her praises for the past six weeks now that she had completed her second summer working under his tutelage.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“She’s Fabian’s daughter?” Abraxas asked thoughtfully, tilting his head to one side. “Or Gideon’s?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No, you were right the first time. She and her two younger brothers are Fabian’s,” Tom confirmed. “Gideon has the fourth-year son, first-year twins and the younger daughter.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Abraxas pulled his parchment over to note that down. “Those Prewitts really do make procreation look simple” He said idly as he wrote. “All three of them found their soulmates at sixteen and really got to work. I’m half impressed and half disgusted.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Don’t you mean half envious?” Tom quipped sourly, his own jealousy thrumming in his veins. All three of the Prewitt children had found their soulmates and completed their bonding before their nineteenth birthdays. The day Molly Prewitt’s bonding had been announced he had been frozen at the age of 25 for almost two decades. Tom had gone home that night and destroyed his dueling room, shattering the targets he had set up in the warded space beyond all hope of repair as he worked through his bitterness and pain.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh, full envious,” Abraxas said, face emotionless but fingers flexing so tightly he almost snapped his quill. He’d already refilled his drink, and the subject had him reaching for it once again. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tom felt a wash of shame run through him as he saw Abraxas hold his own pain inside. Despite all the years since he had left the orphanage, Tom still had a tendency to lash out when reminded of his own hurts. He may have become more restrained in his methods, but he knew better than to bring up such a subject with his friend. Each generation the Malfoy main line struggled to have more than one child, and at this point there were so few offshoot lines that any and all Malfoys were bordering on desperate to produce more than a single heir.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Shall we learn of the newest eagles, hmm?” Abraxas said lightly after both men had pulled themselves together. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>With a tap of his wand on the parchment and a subtle smile at his oldest friend, Tom agreed. “We shall.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b> <em>Ravenclaw</em> </b>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Terry Boot </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Mandy Brocklehurst </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Michael Corner </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Stephen Cornfoot </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Isaac Crouch-Lestrange </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Noah Dearborn </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Anthony Goldstein </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Su Li </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Morag MacDougal </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Padma Patil </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Oliver Rivers </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Leonora Shafiq </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Lisa Turpin </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> 5th Year Male Prefect: Macauley Foster </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> 5th Year Female Prefect: Penelope Clearwater </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Now that’s another interesting mix,” Tom said as Septima’s voice finished reading out the thirteen names that made up the first year Ravenclaws. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Indeed,” the other agreed. “Three newbloods, four halfbloods and six purebloods, with three House representatives, three secondary Heirs and a single primary Heir in the bunch. A non-volatile group of ‘Claws for once, how novel.” Abraxas finished wryly. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tom smirked into his drink. The past few year groups had been explosive. One year had seen children with extreme family enmities placed in the same dormitories, and another had ended up with a roster of eight newbloods who had stormed the tower, raising questions like, ‘how do we define logic in a world where non-magical logic can barely coexist with the wizarding definition of normal?’ Merlin, owls had flown all across the United Kingdoms as parents tried to answer such a question in terms their children could understand and the traditionalists tried to use the frenzy to push for reinstating the Wizarding Traditions course that had changed Tom’s life. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>While such things were useful and a perfect example of why he and Abraxas said they met each evening of September 1st, Tom was still pleased to see a calmer set of names this September. With a year group that had so many Heirs and what was shaping up to be a volatile Slytherin sorting with the absence of some names he had already been expecting to hear, he was quietly grateful that Ravenclaw would likely be a non-entity at least for a year or two.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’ll have to drop a note to Rabastan tonight. He has predicted his boy to be an eagle almost from the start,” Abraxas continued. Tom hummed, jotting a note to himself to send an owl to Barty with his congratulations as well. He had taken the Crouch Heir as something of a mentee when the man had graduated from Hogwarts, and knew he must be pleased that his eldest son had followed in his footsteps.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“How much do you know about the Li family?” Tom brought the conversation back to its point. “All I know is they emigrated from China and this Su is the first child of the family born in Britain.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Abraxas tilted his head, looking off into the space above Tom’s shoulder as he rifled through his memory. “Well, I think they were a case of a secondary Heir connecting with the Family Magic better than the primary, to the point of the title automatically passing over the primary during the ceremony.” Tom’s eyebrows rose of their own accord. <em> Wow, such a rare occurrence </em> . <em> His older sibling must have been furious, murderous even </em>. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Unknowingly agreeing with Tom’s thoughts, Abraxas continued, “Unsurprisingly, it caused quite a bit of tension within the family, so Bohan decided to transplant the line. I assume he chose the UK because his bonded was born here, but I’m not sure they ever confirmed that line of thought. He still fulfills all his duties to the line and the family spends all the major holidays back in China.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The girl would be an excellent connection if all of Abraxas’ intel proved true. Tom had no doubt the man had already coached Draco to at least attempt to befriend her.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Two first-generation prefects, not really a surprise considering how many that class had,” Tom said, shaking his head fondly at the thought of Clearwater, Foster and the other children who had made it look so likely they’d regain the traditions class.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ready for the main event?” Abraxas asked. He had topped off their glasses while Tom was commenting on the pair of Ravenclaw prefects, and he was jiggling his leg in anticipation. Tom laughed and agreed, “Of course. Let’s welcome our newest snakes.” He gave the parchment its final tap and prepared to listen to the names with pride in his heart. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tom still remembered what it had been like to step into the common room his first night. The feast had been the single most overwhelming experience of his life. That much food after the strict, borderline dangerous rations of the orphanage had had him shaking as he tried and failed to pace himself, not wanting to come off even scrubbier to his clearly posh classmates. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He had been fighting his drowsiness on the walk down to the dungeons, forcing it back with the ruthlessness that he buried any possible weakness. Despite the uncomfortable fullness of his belly, Tom’s eyes had been alert and his muscles tensed in readiness when his year had presented itself to Slughorn’s attention and the flat, analytical gazes of the rest of the house. Everyone was sizing him up and finding him, lowly Tom Riddle with barely a galleon to his name and no name worth speaking of, lacking. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tom’s anger had simmered for the entine half an hour that Slughorn had introduced them to their new home, to their new rules. Even as he struggled to choke down his resentment, he had been forced to fight against the awe and scorching envy that had welled up in him as he took in the rich, tasteful furnishings and the understated opulence of the students around him. They exuded wealth and testing, probing scrutiny with every word they spoke, in every tilt of a coiffed head and shrug of a perfectly tailored shoulder It was a world into which he desperately craved entrance. The hat had put him here, told him it was within his grasp. Tom just had to reach out and <em> take it </em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It had been the start of something wonderful, at times miserable, but ultimately fulfilling. Tom had known well what it felt like to miss something you’ve never had, but becoming a Slytherin had let him regain a piece of himself he hadn’t known was gone. Something, in retrospect, that made even more sense when he discovered his bloodline connection to House Slytherin.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b> <em>Slytherin</em> </b>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Tracey Davis </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Lucas Fraser </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Daphne Greengrass </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Cassian Lestrange </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Draco Malfoy </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Lily Moon </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Theodore Nott </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Pansy Parkinson </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Harrison Potter </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Monica Prewett </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Roslin Shacklebolt </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Persephone Tonks </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Blaise Zabini </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> 5th Year Male Prefect: Alexander Avery </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> 5th year Female Prefect: Gemma Farley  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tom’s eyebrows rose of their own accord as he heard the list of names from this year’s sorting, but he knew the first thing he had to tell his friend was, “Congratulations, Abraxas.” Tom was as heartfelt as he knew how to be. His friend wore that same content happiness that he had last seen upon Draco’s birth and Lucius’ wedding, graduation and sorting. “You, Lucius and Narcissa must all be so proud of Draco. He certainly has an influential group surrounding him. Plenty of opportunity to prove himself and to build alliances.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Thank you, my friend,” Abraxas told him. “I hope he is able to do all that and more. If he’s lucky, he’ll find someone who can be more than an ally, someone who can be his friend, his most trusted brother.” The man’s light eyes were clear and sincere as he added, “Like I did.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tom cleared his throat, attempting to dislodge the uncomfortably <em> fond </em> feeling that was choking him. How dare Abraxas make him emotional with kindness! Tom raised his glass to clink against the proud grandfather’s, trying to discreetly wipe at his eyes as he drank, and the pair toasted.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“To Slytherins, the old and the new,” Abraxas said, placing his now empty glass on the table and gesturing to Tom to do the same so he could refill them.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The warmth from the drink had set in, and Tom decided to blame his response to the touching moment on the firewhiskey’s influence. Even so, he let the man pour another measure of amber liquid into his glass.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Alright,” Tom cleared his throat once he had his drink in hand again. “We have a stacked class of new snakes to discuss. Septima must be thrilled and wary in equal measure.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Wouldn’t you be if you had four primary Heirs in a single cohort?” Abraxas retorted. “Not to mention the three secondary Heirs and two House representatives. For god’s sake, there’s only a single newblood in the lot.” His glass came down harshly on Tom’s end table, but there was no point in asking him to watch it, especially since Tom shared his frustration. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Two or three would have certainly been better, especially with the examples of their own classmates. Gemma Farley has been tipped for prefect since the beginning of her third year, and was set to be one of the best Traditions tutors we’ve found, and she has only a single first year to mentor!” Tom sighed as he finished his short rant. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And all four of the half bloods come from families that already follow most traditions or have at least one parent from a major House,” Abraxas said, shaking his head. “At least Narcissa will be pleased to see both her niece and her nephew in our house, though. She says her sisters have had both children pegged for Slytherin since they began to speak.” They shared an amused look at that. What wizarding parent didn’t try to pin their children’s Hogwarts houses down the instant they begin displaying a personality? </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Will Draco be happy to have his cousins with him, do you think?” Tom asked, slowly making notes on his parchment, connecting as many familial relationships across the houses as he could see.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Abraxas sighed and said, “The boy gets along better with Bellatrix’s oldest two boys, and he’s long been jealous of the Tonks girls’ metamorphmagi talents.” He waved off Tom’s concerned look, “Oh, they’ll band together if and when necessity calls for it. I just think Draco wants to make his own way.” Abraxas sounded approving, but Tom was silently skeptical. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The Blacks, for that’s what the three cousins were even if they each had different last names, had always been strongest because they stood together, immovable immutable walls separating family from outsiders. He had a hard time believing the Black Sisters Three wouldn’t have prepared their children to do the same, but Abraxas most likely knew better than he did about Draco’s plan of attack at school.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“A few surprises as well, this year,” the silver-haired man noted. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes,” Tom agreed. “I find it a bit odd but intriguing that both sets of twins have gone to different houses. I didn’t expect Gideon’s other daughter to wear silver and green, but I don’t know much about the family other than what’s common knowledge.”<br/><br/>Abraxas made a sound of agreement, “Neither do I. Well, I think she’ll have a strong contrasting perspective that will be good for our snakes, the Potter boy too.” He sipped from his drink, mulling the idea of the Potter Heir in Slytherin over in his head. “I probably shouldn’t be as surprised by the boy’s placement as I am. Fleamont and James have both followed the old party lines rather than the new spectrum divide, and Lady Potter was one of those children who suffered the absence of the Traditions class but flourished once she was given access to all the information on how our world runs.” Tom noted down the points his friend had made and murmured his agreement, keeping the rest of his opinion off his face. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He thought back to when he had last seen the Potter Heir. The boy had been observant, poised and attentive. He had sat at his father’s side, taking ample notes and subtly cataloguing the behavior of his peers. Tom may have caught him off guard for a moment, but the child had recovered quickly, had shown he possessed that fire that Tom had seen in his allies back at Hogwarts, in himself when he looked in the mirror. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>No, it shouldn’t have been a surprise. “He is one to be watched, I think.” Tom said, keeping his further thoughts to himself. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Abraxas raised an eyebrow at his weighted silence but tipped his head in agreement. “I won’t ask more, since I know the game starts tomorrow and your involvement is, by necessity and honor, different from mine, but if you could give one line of advice to Draco for me to pass along, what would it be?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tom hesitated before he spoke. He could tell that Abraxas, and probably Lucius as well, had prepped the boy with a primarily Malfoy-style approach, a route that had proven successful in the past, but would be difficult to utilize in an environment full of heavy hitters. The future politics of these eleven year olds could change the structure of their society. Such a concept would receive scoffs from others, but Tom and Abraxas had witnessed it twice on a large scale and countless times on a small scale. This group, of all the houses, was made of those who would grow to become key players over the next twenty years. The Slytherins had the highest concentration of connections to major political leaders, forcing them into the views of those paying attention sooner than usual. Third and fourth year was usually when the old crowd started taking note of the newest arrivals.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He hoped, for his friend’s sake, that Draco would realize the allies he automatically brought with him were a strength rather than a weakness from which to separate in order to prove himself but . . . well, Tom didn’t expect the child to see the wisdom of that approach without having learned it from his family. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I will say this,” Tom said, finally. “I would counsel any of these players to be adaptable, be dynamic. Everyone, with the exception of the Fraser boy, has ties, lifelines. Underestimating someone, undervaluing someone, making assumptions and dismissing someone as irrelevant, those will be the biggest mistakes for this group. I hope Draco can avoid that mental trap.” Abraxas’ cool gaze searched Tom’s face for any indication of what Tom knew, had already started to plan, but, even with his friends, Tom’s mind was a fortress, protected by a shield of white-hot fire and impenetrable when it came to his responsibilities as Lord.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Lord Malfoy nodded in forfeit, moving on to more general discussion. “Anything of note about the Greengrass and Nott Heirs?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tom shook his head. “Nothing other than what we already know from Theodorus. The Greengrass girl is said to be the spitting image of her mother with the tactical mind of her father, so I’d keep an eye on her as well. Between her, the Prewitt girl, the younger Tonks daughter, the Shacklebolt girl—I had forgotten she was in this year group, I think she’s on the younger side, born late August or something—the youngest Parkinson and the two half-bloods, the young ladies will grow to be formidable.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Still, it’s hard not to think the lads are the ones to watch,” Abraxas countered. “Malfoy, Lestrange, Potter, Nott, Zabini, and the Fraser boy.” He paused, eyes glazing as he thought about the ties and political backgrounds of those families. “They’re a powder-keg. The newblood will be crucial I think. I’ll hint to my grandson about it, but even I want to see who takes the initiative with him.”<br/><br/>Tom let a considering look settle on his face but didn’t say a word. Instead his quill flew as he penned his impressions onto the parchment. That Fraser child would indeed be telling.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Inwardly he doubted Draco would be the one to pull the first generation wizard into the fold. Out of all the children and grandchildren of his friends, he had spent the most time around Draco. The child was rarely interested in those who he thought were beneath his station. No, the child had that easy condescension that was so prevalent in the Malfoy line. Hopefully he’d pick up the subtlety and grace of his parents, but at eleven those traits hadn’t sunk in yet, as evidenced by his behavior at the meeting in October and the last four garden parties of the spring and summer season. Not to mention his distraction on the summer solstice. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Of his party’s Heirs, the Lestrange child would be his guess, but the Zabini and Potter boys were more likely candidates to befriend the boy. There was also Theodorus’s child, born oh so late since his parents had not met for decades longer than most bonded couples. Tom had been sympathetic to Lord Nott’s plight but had shattered every mirror in Slytherin Manor the night that his friend had written to tell him that he’d found his soulmate. Their heir was a shy, quiet child. ‘Dorus had sighed upon telling Tom of his son’s disposition a few years back, but he had leaned into the boy’s natural reticence, as he’d told Tom one night over elf-made wine. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The Nott Lord had confided that he taught his Heir how to blend in, how to listen, how to offer comfort and be open to confidences, how to make himself heard when the time arose. Young Theo may never rise to be a Party Leader, but if he continued under his father’s tutelage he’d be a whisper in the night, a subtle and powerful player behind the scenes. There was strength to be found in being the shoulder on which others would cry.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tom approved. Dorus had always been best at adaptation. He was never the strongest with a wand or the best at any subject, but he had  always been in the right place at the right time when he was still Heir during their years at Hogwarts. He worked hard, always within the top fifteen in marks and invited to every Slug Club gathering, witty and opinionated but caustic and sharp in equal measure. He made others earn his friendship, setting himself up to be valued as a social player who could be your second or your secret keeper. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>There was a reason Tom had always played the fence between Abraxas and Dorus. Oh, the two got along fine, but their styles grated upon the other. Their friendship was full of showmanship and needling and it amused Tom to no end, but he much preferred having the confidence of both. The information that could be gathered from two such differing tactical players was invaluable in revealing the full scope of the board to his eyes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>So, the Nott boy would likely flit in and out of however the groups divided this year, keeping his options open and his circle of acquaintances wide on ‘Dorus’ advice. Abraxas would lead his grandson to gather a single ally or two, strong and connected, who would help him make inroads with the year above and their relatives the year below. He’d also probably tell him to stay close with Rabastan’s boy in Ravenclaw, <em> the best advice of the bunch </em>, Tom thought. They’d all learned that lesson themselves back in the thirties and forties, how important it was to have ties to the other houses.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Zabini and Potter were the wizards that would have unknown strategy and untold options. The Zabinis had international connections, and the first year was the third child of the Lord, the first born of his second wife. The older two Zabini children were from his bonded before she had passed away during childbirth gone horribly wrong. With relations in Italy and Spain, and a mother who had introduced the child to the British circuit early, but sparingly, the boy had become a valued commodity, a rarely seen and often coveted presence. She’d done him a favor, without doubt. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He’d seen the boy once this summer. He’d no doubt grow into his looks. Exotic and familiar all at once, he was sure to gain attention merely for his appearance, but the boy had proven quick-witted during the brief conversation they’d shared under his mother’s watchful eye. Tom had told the pair he’d do well in the house of snakes and had steered Abraxas away from them as subtly as he was able. He didn’t need his friend claiming the connection for House Malfoy’s betterment. Young Draco would not allow Zabini to consolidate the power he would be able to accrue outside of the Malfoy shadow, and Tom felt certain the boy would sort Slytherin so it benefitted Tom to keep the boy untethered to start. Maria Santori’s lips had curled as she’d caught him in the act, but he’d seen her whisper to her son and the pair had nodded slightly at him. Tom knew the importance of international connections after all, and Zabini would see the possibilities of the lone newblood in Slytherin immediately. He’d bet plenty of gold that the boy would be one of the first to make overtures.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And yet, something told him Potter would be the one to win that connection in the end.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A half-blood with power in his future and complete training at his fingertips. How everyone seemed to forget that Lord Black was the boy’s godfather was beyond Tom. Sirius Black, the Heir that had been chosen over his own father by the former Lord and by Lady Magic, was too often underestimated, and Tom could not understand why. Bellatrix and Narcissa reminded their husbands constantly that for all Lord Black had sorted Gryffindor, he knew how to play the game as well as they did. They had been adamant in warning their Party Leader that Lord Black had received private lessons from old Arcturus and had spent his years at Hogwarts playing so covertly that most everyone didn’t even realize he was playing at all. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Narcissa had been the one to whisper to him about how heavily her cousin doted upon his godson and the boy’s brother. She’d seen the boys in the Black Family Library when she’d stopped by to have tea with Regulus’ wife one afternoon, and she knew they had rooms in the manor. Her husband had disregarded her advice (<em> that classic Malfoy arrogance </em>, Tom thought bemusedly), had dismissed the idea as unthinkable, but Narcissa was adamant that both boys had Black Family Training. Tom, reflecting on Lord Black’s ever watchful eyes and aura that tasted of protectiveness that lingered around the entire Potter Family, had to agree with Narcissa. So when it came to house politics and seeing the first necessary move, Tom felt certain Harrison would know how to walk the line. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The son of a first-generation witch himself, the Potter Heir would know the importance of bringing a newblood into the fold, helping him adjust and guiding him on the path to excellence, to recognition. Being the person to help the newblood embrace wizarding tradition and set down roots would create ties that would yield dividends long into the future. It would be a victory, <em> the </em> victory, in the game this first year and the Potter child would know it. If he got him to <em> establish </em>, well there’s no doubt whether the Potter child knew what it would mean for his family. He had too many teachers to not seize upon that opportunity immediately. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Of all the children sorted into Slytherin, it was he and the Prewitt girl who would have the easiest time making connections in other houses, particularly with the lions. It could cost them in-house if they played their hand wrong, but they had years to make up for any missteps if they went that route. They each had younger siblings, too, although Monica Prewitt’s cousins would be of immediate use to her, whereas Harrison Potter wouldn’t have immediate family until his third-year when his brother came of school age. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The Tonks girl would have her older sister, a seventh year and a fellow metamorphmagus who had her eye on the Aurors. This was an eminently useful connection, if only in the advantage to be found in having an older partner from a different house to help you navigate those first crucial months in a new environment, and that didn’t even take into mind her cousins, including Cassian’s older brothers. Parkinson’s brother graduated two years ago, so she would only have her older Travers cousins if he remembered correctly. The Davis, Greengrass and Shacklebolt girls all had older cousins as well, and two had younger siblings who would join them in the next few years. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Yes, this group would be a banner cohort for Slytherin House, and Tom, as its Lord, would be alerting Septima that this was a full-investment year. </p>
<p> </p>
<p><em> Salazar, I haven’t had a full-investment year since Bellatrix’s cohort </em>. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Septima would be thrilled at the news. She’d never worked with him for anything beyond a quartet. Over the past decade, Tom had grown to trust the majority of her advice and recommendations, but he still remembered her bewildered hesitance the first time he’d directly interfered during her time as Head of House.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Being Lord Slytherin meant something. More than just a recognizable title or the continuation of Salazar’s most famous talent, taking on the mantle of Lord Slytherin meant taking on the betterment of Slytherin house as an entity, and for the first time in over twenty years Tom had an entire cohort that could contribute the the strength of House Slytherin.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Outwardly, Tom kept a straight face and agreed with his friend, “Yes, it will no doubt be a fascinating class to watch,” but inwardly he felt a cruel, hungry, almost giddy excitement take ahold of him. <em> Let the games begin </em>.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments. Each and every time I see someone so interested in the story I'm so touched and inspired to keep writing :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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